


Shadows on the Walls

by VampireNaomi



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Berlin Wall, Brothers, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-08 09:06:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampireNaomi/pseuds/VampireNaomi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Berlin Wall falls, and Germany suspects that his brother has been hurt more than he's willing to admit. The fic discusses rape, but nobody actually gets raped at any point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally written on the Hetalia kink meme. The prompt was that Germany should believe Prussia has been raped by Russia when that actually never happened. It involves a lot of my old headcanons, such as Prussia being messy, that I no longer use in my writing. I hope it's still enjoyable!

“These Soviet bastards, they don't know who they're dealing with.”

Germany didn't turn to look at America at these words. It was always the same; every time America visited him, he couldn't stop talking about Russia and communism and how he would put an end to this mess right now if he only had free hands. It was nothing but words, of course. They all knew that starting a war with the Soviet Union would be a suicide.

This time, America was particularly stressed and had started his evening with more beer than was usual for him. The missile crisis in Cuba had ended only a few months ago, thankfully without fighting that would have surely led to the destruction of everyone involved.

His glass was nearly knocked over when America suddenly hit his fist on the table.

“Goddammit, he thinks he can do anything he wants just because he's got nukes like us! But just watch, I'll find a way to kick his ass and free everyone!”

“Sure,” Germany said, though he wasn't very hopeful about that. A wall had gone up in Berlin almost two years ago. He hadn't seen his brother since then. He had a feeling this wasn't going to end soon.

America downed some more of his beer. “And then everything's gonna be fine again. I'll... I'll bring crates of Coca Cola to everyone as a sign of freedom. Yeah, haha!”

Germany didn't think he and America were particularly good friends. America just liked to come over to show the world that he cared about the situation in Europe and would have their back if the Soviets ever tried to advance towards west. Maybe he also wanted to annoy Russia and rub it to his face how much influence he was having right behind the so called Iron Curtain.

It was doubtful that America's efforts would bear fruit. The situation couldn't be solved with military conflict. Germany didn't even want to try. He had seen enough war for the rest of his eternity. Diplomacy was the way of the future. His boss had told him he was planning to offer the Soviet Union economic aid in exchange for more freedom in the East, and –

“– taking to his bed this time. God, nothing's beneath that psycho.”

“What?” Germany asked absent-mindedly, realising that he had again tuned out most of America's ranting.

“Russia, man. He's totally screwing everyone under his power. Torturing, too, probably. He's got to keep them disciplined, you know?” 

Before Germany could properly process what America had just said, he continued with new eagerness.

“The way I see it, it's pretty obvious. Russia is so horrible, not to mention butt-ugly, that nobody in their right mind would ever want to let him do them. So he's got to force them. We already know what he's capable of when the countries under Soviet rule try to rebel,” he continued. 

“So, you're saying he's... uh...”

“Raping them. All of them.”

“That's absurd,” Germany said. America had drunk too much again.

“No, listen! Russia has been going on and on about this becoming one with him business ever since he went communist,” America said. He licked his lips and glanced around, as if he didn't want just anyone to hear. “I don't think he's talking figuratively. I'm sure he's really doing it.”

“Do you have proof?” Germany asked. He didn't like how serious his voice had suddenly grown. He wasn't believing this nonsense, right?

“I've got spies there who tell me about the horrible things they've seen. The kind of torture and horrors that you could never imagine – or wait, sorry, you sure could! But my point stands. How do you think he's keeping everyone nice and quiet? Sexual abuse is one of the surest ways to break someone's will, especially if he can convince them that they deserved it and it was their fault,” America went on.

He said something more after that, but Germany had stopped listening again. He didn't want to believe a word of this – he wasn't believing a single word, really! – but he suddenly imagined his brother writhing in pain under Russia's large form, feebly trying to fight back and crying for help. He saw Russia's fingers in his brother's hair, then travelling down his pale, bruised skin in a mockery of a lover's touch.

He felt his stomach turn, and he suddenly hated himself for having an unnecessarily vivid imagination for such things.

“Wow, you're looking a little sick,” America commented. “Too much beer already?”

“Can you stop talking about Russia? It's complete nonsense,” Germany said.

“It's unpleasant for sure, but it's the truth, man.”

“No, it's not!”

“Hey, what are you getting so bent for? Do you want to defend him or something?”

“Russia isn't doing any of the things you said! My brother wouldn't... he's... he...” Germany started, but the words died in his throat.

There had been a time when Prussia had been the strongest man in the world for him, a time when he could have never imagined that his loud, strong and arrogant older brother could lose to anyone. That anything bad could happen to him. That illusion had been shattered already, and he now knew that Prussia bled like everyone else. Maybe he could also...

“Oh, right! Your brother! Sorry, man. I totally forgot. Uh, so, there are so many countries over there. I can't even locate all of them on a map! So, that probably means it's not your brother's turn often, right? Unless Russia is fixating on him or something, and with that hair and eyes it wouldn't really – oh, hey, where are you going?”

“I need some fresh air,” Germany said and stumbled out into the night.

***

Germany kept telling himself that he didn't believe a word of America's insane conspiracy theories. Everyone knew that America stopped seeing reason whenever Russia was mentioned. He was only imagining things.

And yet... The lingering doubt and fear wouldn't leave him alone. He spent that night awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling and doing his best to avoid imagining the horrors his brother could be going through at the very moment. The scenes became more and more terrifying until Germany couldn't take it anymore.

Swearing under his breath, he got up from bed and went downstairs where the phone was. He picked up the receiver, but then he hesitated. It was stupid to call Prussia at this hour; he was surely in bed.

But maybe he wasn't alone.

Germany gritted his teeth and dialled the number. The phone rang for a long time, but then someone picked it up.

“What?” asked a sour voice.

“Prussia!”

“Oh, hey, West. Didn't I tell you not to call me again until you've officially recognised my country?”

“I know, but... Did I wake you up?”

“Nah, I had some business to take care of.”

Germany refrained from asking what that business was. He was sure he didn't want to know what Prussia's boss made him do.

“Are you... are you alright?” he asked instead. At least he sounded alright, Germany supposed, not like he was in pain or scared. Then again, Prussia was really good at hiding his real emotions.

“What's this? Of course I'm alright, all things considered. What's got to you?” Prussia asked.

“But you're up at this time of the night,” Germany pointed out.

“Well, so are you.”

“I couldn't sleep.”

Prussia sighed. “Listen. Do you need me to come and tuck you in like old times? Because that's a little difficult right now. If you've got something to say, just go ahead and say it.”

Germany knew that their conversation was being listened and that every word would be reported to the Stasi, possibly to Russia as well. If Russia really was doing something to his brother, it might anger him if someone found out. If Germany said something now, would Russia suspect his brother of trying to get help from west? Would he punish Prussia?

“No, it's nothing. I'm sorry I called you in the middle of the night,” he said, feeling defeated and trapped.

“You were lucky this time that I wasn't in bed, but don't make a habit out of it, okay?”

“Yes, well –” Germany started, but he was cut off by a strange noise from the phone. It sounded like something crashing. 

“Shit,” Prussia said, his voice distant because he wasn't talking to the receiver anymore. “That was my favourite – yeah, yeah, I know. I shouldn't nag. Sorry.”

“Prussia, what's that? Is there someone else? Who is it?” Germany asked. 

“Sorry, but I've got to go. Something came up.”

“Prussia, please! What's going on?”

“It's nothing. I'm going to hang up now.”

“Wait, don't! I...” Germany said, but it was too late. There was a click and the line went dead. 

It was the middle of the night, and Prussia wasn't alone at his house. That other person was breaking things. Prussia apologized to that person even though he destroyed something that was important to him. That wasn't like him at all. That was... Germany didn't even want to imagine what that was.

Germany sat there for a long time, clutching the receiver and fearing the worst. In the darkness of his house, America's insane babbling started making an awful lot of sense.

***

Germany's intestines felt like they were tied on knots as he observed the other nations at the next world meeting. It was nothing new that the atmosphere around him was tense. Memories of the war and the horrors of the camps were still fresh on everyone's mind, and Germany knew it would be a long time before he could shed that dark cape off his shoulders – if he ever could.

However, this time it wasn't the mistrust and resentment from the others that made him so uneasy. He kept staring at the entrance to the meeting room, hoping in vain that his brother would arrive. Deep down, he knew that Prussia wouldn't be there, but if he hoped enough, maybe there would be an exception this time.

He gritted his teeth when Russia entered the room. He was the same as always, smiling at everyone who made the mistake of looking his way and observing them with amusement glinting in his eyes. Before, Germany had been almost glad for the way Russia's presence made the temperature in the room go down. The threat from east made it easier for him to reconcile with the rest of Europe. They could stand together against a common enemy.

But now he found himself wishing that he could spot a spark of humanity behind Russia's smile. His brother was trapped behind the Wall with this monster.

“Hello, Germany. Is there something you wanted?”

Germany blinked and sputtered as he realised that he had been staring and that Russia had come to stand right before him. Dammit, was he out of his mind? He shouldn't try to attract his attention.

“Where is my brother?” he asked.

Russia let out a long hum, sounding happily surprised. “East doesn't come to world meetings because not many have recognised his country. You should know that. You keep insisting that there's no German Democratic Republic as well,” he said.

That was because there wasn't. The border that divided the country in two was like a long wound running down Germany's chest. It was wrong and unnatural; his people were supposed to be one.

“I'm happy I don't have such ungrateful little brothers,” Russia said. “He would die without his country, and yet you want to take it away from him so bad. It's no wonder that he...”

“He what?” Germany snarled, unable to control his voice.

“Why don't you ask him yourself? If he even wants to talk to you anymore, that is. He doesn't live in my house, but he visits often and belongs to my family now. I don't think he wants a little brother anymore,” Russia said.

“That's not true!” Germany snapped. Prussia would always be his brother, no matter what happened and how many barriers were built between them.

“I visited him not too long ago. He didn't speak very kindly of you,” Russia said.

“You visited him?” Germany repeated. Could it be that the person he had heard during the phone call had been Russia? Had he been at Prussia's house in the middle of the night?

Russia smiled. “Yes. I made him some _shchi_ that we ate together. I don't think he liked it very much, but I'm sure he will learn to love my food if I keep being nice to him. East is a little naughty sometimes, but I know how to treat him right so that his behaviour will improve.”

Germany felt his breath get caught in his throat at Russia's ominous words and the haunting tone of his voice. So many meanings could hide behind these comments, but his mind was already interpreting them the worst possible way. He opened his mouth, desperate to demand Russia for a concrete answer about what he was doing to his brother, but he couldn't force his voice to work.

What would it help if he knew and his fears were confirmed? He could do nothing to help. He was a failure of a brother.

“If you decided to join me, there would be no need for a wall. Then you could try to reconcile with East,” Russia said.

“No. I can't. I –”

Russia gave him a pat on the shoulder and walked past him. “Maybe later, then. It was nice talking to you, Germany. Until next time.”

After the meeting was over, Germany went to America and pulled him away from the others.

“I need to talk to you,” he said.

“Sure, what is it?”

“I'd rather not talk about it here. Can we go somewhere more secure?”

America's eyes lit up in excitement. “Hey, this sounds cool! We can go into my hotel room. With the way the world is these days, you can never be too careful, so I had my boys search the whole building for bugs and spies. Nobody will hear us there.”

“Good.”

Once they were in the hotel room, America pulled the curtains over the windows, locked the door and looked under the bed.

“Just in case,” he explained. “I hate to say it, but Soviet spies are pretty good at what they do.”

“That's sort of what I came here to talk about,” Germany said. He moved aside some of the empty soda cans before taking a seat. He crossed his hands on his knees and looked up to America who had climbed on a chair to make sure nothing was hidden in the lamp.

“I guess we're safe,” America announced and jumped down to sit on his bed.

“I need your help.”

“Sure, I'm always ready to help. What can I do for you?”

Germany swallowed, searching for the right words. The fears on his mind were so horrifying that he didn't know how to voice them. He was about to destroy his brother's privacy and talk about such intimate and painful things that Prussia might never forgive him if he knew.

“It's about what you said last time,” he finally said.

America pursed his lips and scratched his chin. “Huh, what was that again? I think I had a few too many that night, hahaha!”

“You said that Russia is... that he's abusing everyone under his power.”

“Well, of course he is! He's forcing everyone to accept his stupid ideology! I thought that was obvious.”

“Yes, but you also said that... that he's...” No matter how hard he tried, Germany couldn't bring himself to say it. He looked pleadingly at America, hoping that he would understand what he was getting at.

“Oh, you mean the rape?”

Germany hated the nonchalant way the word rolled off America's tongue. To him, it was perhaps nothing more than another horrifying crime Russia was guilty of, but to Germany it meant nearly the end of the world. America wouldn't dare use that tone if it were Canada in danger.

“Yes. I talked to Russia today. What he said makes me really worried. I've tried to talk to my brother, he won't tell me anything. And I can't just ask Russia,” he said.

“Well, of course not. All he does is lie.”

Germany drew a deep breath. “I need to know what's going on with my brother. Even if I can't help him now, I must know. I must be prepared for the day when we're reunited so that I can support him. Please, America. Do you have any men who could give me information about what Russia is doing to him?” 

America crossed his arms on his chest and frowned in thought. “Hmm, that's not an easy request. I do have a good number of spies on the other side, but they all have important stuff to do. I don't really like the idea of risking their lives for something like that,” he said.

“I see,” Germany said, lowering his eyes. That was it, then. If America couldn't help him, nobody could.

“Hey, chin up! I didn't say no. I just said it's going to be difficult, but I'll see what I can do. We're already keeping tabs on your brother anyway. I'll tell the boys that his personal life needs to be put under better scrutiny. If you want, he won't be able to go to the bathroom without us knowing,” America said.

“I feel terrible doing this,” Germany muttered. Wasn't this violation of his brother's privacy almost the same as what Russia was doing?

“Man, no need to feel guilty. I'm sure he's got someone keeping an eye on you, too. He's your brother, but you can't forget that you're on different sides now. He's with the commie bastard; you're with me.”

“Right. Yes, that's right,” Germany said. That was what his boss told him. They had to be hard if they wanted to see the country whole again. They shouldn't show sympathy.

“Great that you see it my way. I'll talk to my boys when I get back home, and I'll let you know as soon as there's anything interesting.”

“Interesting isn't the right word, and I hope you'll never have to tell me anything,” Germany said.

“Right, of course.”

***

America kept regularly in touch with Germany, but his reports weren't very satisfactory. He couldn't present any solid evidence of Prussia being abused, but he couldn't prove the opposite either. Germany was left with accounts of how Russia often came to visit Prussia at his house and a handful of dark photos to prove it, nothing else.

“We can't just put bugs in your brother's house or go take pictures there. It's too dangerous and not worth the risk,” America explained to him.

“I know,” Germany said with a sigh. “I just wish I had something more concrete so that I wouldn't have to keep guessing.”

“Have you tried asking him about it?”

“I can't.”

“Yeah, that might be for the best. Who knows what the psycho will do if he knows that we know?”

Germany agreed, but that wasn't his main reason. To his great shame, he was utterly unable to even mention the topic on those increasingly rare occasions that he called Prussia – Prussia never called him. He just couldn't do it. He hated how difficult it was for him to tell his own brother that he wanted to be there for him, even if there was a wall between them.

It was only a couple of years later that America was able to present him with solid evidence. It was early February in 1969, and America was on a visit in Bonn. After the official business was over, he suggested that they should find a quiet corner in a secure place and have two pints of _Weißbier._ It was America's code word for the times when he had information on Prussia; he had insisted on having one.

“Is this place safe?” America asked in a whisper after they had taken seats and received their orders.

Germany nodded, too tense for words. America hadn't looked this serious in a long time.

“Good. I've got something big for you.” America reached inside his jacket and pulled out a brown envelope. He slid it to Germany's side of the table. 

Germany took the envelope, trying to ignore how heavy it felt and how his fingers insisted on shaking. These couldn't be just more shady photos of Russia entering or leaving Prussia's house. He opened the envelope and took out five pictures.

“I've had those for a while now, several months at least, but they got buried under other stuff, and I didn't even notice them until now. But look at them! What else could that be?” America pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, looking grim and yet pleased with himself.

Germany bit his tongue as he looked at the photos. They all showed Prussia, and he looked miserable and angry in all of them. Particularly striking was the picture in which his black eye and bruised face were perfectly captured.

“When and where were these taken?” Germany asked in a hoarse voice, tearing his gaze from Prussia's abused features.

“I'm not sure. Some time last year, I think. There has been no military conflict in which East Germany was attacked or anything, so this can only be personal. And who else would do this but the red bastard?”

Germany nodded. It made perfect sense. It all fit. Russia was nothing but a blood-thirsty monster, waiting for a chance to advance west and devour them all. He had known that for years now, so the extent of his cruelty wasn't a surprise, but it tasted so very bitter.

“I hate to say it, I'm sure he's looking a lot worse under his clothes,” America said. 

“What do you mean?”

“It's typical for abusers. Leaving visible marks makes people curious.” America pointed his finger at Prussia's face in the photo. “Bruises like that can be explained away with a clumsy accident. The real injury is where you can't see it, and it's worse.”

“You're right,” Germany croaked. He let the photos fall from his hands and covered his eyes with his hand.

“Sorry, man,” America said. “It must be hard, but if it makes you feel any better, I'm so going to kick that bastard's ass for you.”

“Thank you,” Germany said, but he couldn't bring himself to feel grateful. His brother had already suffered so much, and he might never recover from it. How many times more would Russia touch him before all this was over?

He slipped the photos back into the envelope and excused himself. He had to hear Prussia's voice, just to feel assured that he was still alive.

***

Waiting had never felt as agonizing as when he dialled Prussia's number and listened to the beep of the telephone. It was as if it took hours for his brother to pick up the phone.

“Yes?”

“Prussia, it's me.” 

“Oh, hi, West. Haven't heard from you in a while.”

“I know. Sorry. My boss –”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I bet he's still more tolerable than mine.”

Germany clutched the envelope in his hand. All he needed was one question and an answer, and then he would know the truth. Except that he was sure Prussia would never tell him anything. He probably saw his abuse as a weakness and would keep denying it.

“So, what is it, or is this just a social call? I'm actually a little busy, so –”

“I just wanted to call you.”

“Just wanted to call me, huh? What's wrong? Not getting along with your new playmates? Is America giving you a hard time?”

“Something like that,” Germany said. He realised he just wanted to keep talking, even if it was nonsense. Especially if it was nonsense, actually. Anything to forget politics and just talk to his brother.

“Well, too bad. I would love to come over there and kick his ass for you like the best big brother I am, but you know we've got tight security at the border. Got to keep capitalist assholes like you out of our paradise and all that,” Prussia said.

Germany couldn't help but chuckle, even if it sounded hollow in his hears.

“How have you been?” he asked.

“Just fine. I absolutely love it how there's nothing but crap in the stores because I end up saving money that way, and the Soviet military is always here to keep me company. It couldn't be better.”

“I'm sorry.”

“So, how are you?”

“I'm fine,” Germany said. He didn't really know what else to say. They both knew which of them was better off, and he didn't want to rub that to Prussia's face.

Silence fell between them.

“Well, if that was all –” Prussia started.

“Prussia.”

“Yeah?”

Germany drew a deep breath, gathering his courage. “I... miss you. I'm going to get you out of there. Somehow. I promise.”

There was silence on the other side, and at first he thought that Prussia was no longer there. Then his brother laughed hoarsely.

“God, West. Don't say such mushy crap when my boys are on the line. They'll think I'm a total wuss!”

“I meant it.”

“My boss will scold me and take away my phone if you keep putting revolutionary ideas into my head. If you want to do something for me, just send me a box of bananas, okay?”

“Alright, I'll see what I can do.”

Germany didn't know how to feel after the phone call. Prussia had sounded like himself, and it was so tempting to think that everything truly was fine. The problem was that Prussia had used that exact same tone when reporting the damage to him on the last days before Berlin had fallen before the Soviet soldiers.

He supposed all he could do was wait, trust America and hope that the day when he could embrace his brother again would dawn soon.

***

When Germany saw his brother again, it was September 1973. They were both joining the UN, which felt like a breath of fresh air for Germany. Maybe things could get better for them now. Maybe they could see each other more often. Maybe Prussia wouldn't be so tightly under Russia's influence anymore.

He felt his heart clench when he first caught sight of his brother. Prussia was standing by Russia's side, too close to Germany's liking. He looked paler than usual, but perhaps that was just Germany's memory playing tricks on him or the contrast created by the black coat Prussia was wearing.

Russia noticed Germany before Prussia did. The sunny smile on his face brightened even more, and he gave Prussia and nudge on the back.

“I think your brother wants to talk to you,” he said.

“So, he's my brother again. Last time you told me he had abandoned me. Make up your mind.”

“His current boss is more agreeable than the previous one.”

“Yeah, he's not half bad.”

Germany gritted his teeth as he listened to the conversation and watched Prussia fiddle with the scarf wrapped around his neck. It was a perfect match to the scarf Russia was wearing.

Suddenly, he had no idea what he could say to his brother after over ten years of not having seen him. So much had happened, and they hadn't been there for each other through it. He would have liked to just forget words altogether and bury Prussia in his arms, but he didn't dare get so personal when Russia was looming over his brother like that.

The past years had hardened Germany's suspicion and worry into pure hatred towards the Soviet nation. America had provided him with a steady trickle of suspicious evidence, but even without that, he would have been certain that Russia was hurting his brother. Whenever they met, Russia directed amused, mocking words and glances at him. He was taunting him, Germany knew, rubbing it to his face that Germany could do nothing to stop him.

“Hiya, West. What's up? You're looking good,” Prussia said.

“But we already knew that from the photos that our friends keep sending us,” Russia said.

Germany shot a glare at Russia, hating his choice of pronouns. “Can I talk to my brother alone?” he asked.

“I don't think that's necessary,” Russia said.

Prussia said nothing to disagree with him. Germany hated that even more than Russia's earlier words.

“I'm glad to see you,” Germany said, trying to smile.

“Yeah, and thanks for recognising my country,” Prussia said.

“Too bad it took so many years,” Russia pointed out.

Germany frowned. Prussia hadn't been there when they had signed the Basic Treaty. He couldn't understand why his brother would skip such a historical event that finally let them recognise each other not just as brothers but as nations as well. He could only assume that Russia had forbidden him from coming.

“I'm sure everything will get better now. We should start seeing each other again. You should visit –”

“My, those are dangerous ideas, Germany. You promised me you'd accept the current borders in Europe,” Russia cut in.

“I know,” Germany growled. “I just want to see my brother. I'm not planning to join our countries.” Not now, at least. That was still his ultimate goal, but he and his boss knew that they could never reach it if they remained stubbornly hostile towards East Germany.

“Sorry, but I'm not coming to visit you when my people can't cross the border. You're going to have to visit me,” Prussia said.

Germany frowned at the resentfulness that was lurking behind Prussia's tone. All he wanted was to give his brother some freedom and relief from his torment, some good food and products he couldn't get in his own country. Why did it suddenly feel like he was the villain here?

“It was nice that you two could catch up, but I think it's time for us to go,” Russia announced. He wrapped an arm around Prussia's shoulders and started leading him away.

“We barely got to say hello!” Germany snapped.

Prussia didn't resist, which was another stab at Germany's heart. Prussia's cocky words during their phone calls had somewhat eased the ache inside him, but seeing his brother act so meek and obedient showed him just how badly Prussia was hurt.

Next time, Germany swore. At the next world meeting, he'd get America to distract Russia, and then he would corner his brother and finally talk to him alone.

***

Except that Prussia wasn't at the next meeting. Or the one after that or the one after that. When Germany called him about it, he simply said that he had had something more important to do. Germany made the mistake of asking if Russia wasn't letting him come, which resulted in Prussia hanging up on him without a word for the next two weeks.

It was obvious he wasn't going to get the answer out of his brother. That only left one person to talk to, and this time Germany was determined to do it. He was finally getting closer to his brother due to his boss's _Ostpolitik_ , and he wasn't going to let Russia ruin it for them.

“Russia, I want to talk to you,” he said when they were having a break.

“But of course.”

“Why is my brother not here? What did you do to him to make him stay home?” Germany asked.

“I didn't do anything. It was his own decision not to come.”

“I don't believe that. You've been telling me for years that I should recognise his country. Well, I have. He has his own country. That means he should be able to do what he wants!”

“Then maybe he doesn't want to come. Maybe he's happier when he doesn't have to see you.”

Germany clenched his fists so hard that it hurt. That couldn't be true. It simply wasn't.

“You're lying,” he growled.

Russia smiled. “It's for the good of my family that everyone stays in line and doesn't do anything stupid. I've had to enforce that rule a little too strictly a few times, but it was for the best, even if they didn't realise it at the time. However, I haven't asked East to do anything for me this time,” he said. He paused for a moment. “In fact, you must have noticed that his politicians are here to represent him. It's just that East didn't want to come personally.”

And that could only mean one thing. Russia had forbidden Prussia from coming but not because of politics. It was personal; the monster was trying to keep his brother submissive and under his power no matter what he had to do. To top it, he had the gall to smile so innocently while practically admitting it to this face!

“You... you bastard!” Germany snarled. He was sure he felt something snap in his head, and after that there was only sharp pain in his knuckles and gasps from elsewhere in the room.

“That wasn't very nice,” Russia said, rubbing his jaw. His smile hadn't wavered, but his eyes had turned dark and cold, bringing back unpleasant memories. “Perhaps you want to go to war with me?”

“I –”

“Germany, what in God's name are you doing?”

“Have you gone completely mad?”

Germany felt two pairs of arms grab him and pull him away from Russia. When he turned to look, he saw it was England and France, for once as a unified front and in complete agreement.

“Let me go!”

“Are you trying to start an international conflict, you blasted fool?”

“And with him of all people!”

“But I...” Germany stuttered, but then he realised what he had done. This wouldn't do anything to help Prussia. It would just cause them both problems.

“I don't think Germany wants to do that after how the last one turned out. I'll forget about this if he offers me a nice apology,” Russia said.

Germany gritted his teeth as he felt both England and France's fingers dig warningly into his arms. He had no choice, he knew.

“I'm sorry. I've been a little stressed out lately,” he said. Please don't take this out on Prussia, he thought.

“That's alright. It must be hard for you to be separated from your brother like this,” Russia said.

It was then that the hopelessness of the situation properly dawned on Germany. For as long as the country was divided in two, there was nothing he could do to help Prussia. Even if he visited him every chance he got, there would still be countless occasions when he'd be alone with Russia. And he couldn't lift a finger against the Soviet nation.

When he returned to his country, Germany immediately travelled to Berlin. He spent most of his time in Bonn because of work, but he would have much rather lived in West Berlin. There he felt the closest to his brother, and the Wall symbolised their separation better than anything else.

It was the middle of the night when he arrived. He didn't bother taking a moment to catch his breath but walked straight to the Wall that ran around his half of the city. Germany rested his forehead against its surface and closed his eyes, his chest aching at the thought that it was only this chunk of concrete that separated him from his brother.

If only he could tear it down! He wanted nothing more than to open the border and welcome Prussia to his home where he was safe.

Germany straightened his back and reached inside his coat to take out the envelope with the pictures America had given him a few years ago. He didn't need to take a look at them; the images were forever burnt on his mind. The only reason he carried them with him was that the uncomfortable weight in his chest pocket gave him determination when his worry for his brother threatened to grow too overbearing.

“One day there will be no Wall, Prussia,” he said. He wished he could yell these words over to the other side, but he knew Prussia wouldn't be there to hear him. The death strip and the armed guards prevented anyone from approaching the Wall on the eastern side. Germany liked to think that Prussia might have defied the odds in the past, but now when Russia had moulded him into what he wanted? No.

Gritting his teeth, Germany shoved the photos into his pocket and turned his back on the Wall. No matter how long he had to wait, he would be there when Prussia crossed the border and needed him. He'd help him heal and forget all that Russia had ever done to him.


	2. Chapter 2

Prussia was certain his chest would burst. The feeling of pure joy was so overwhelming that he was half afraid it would crush him and prevent him from ever reaching the Wall. The other half of him wouldn't have minded that. He felt all of his people's hopes, excitement and relief; their happy tears were the blood flowing in his veins. Surely that was the best way for a nation to die.

But he wasn't going to die, he reminded himself. He still hadn't made it to the other side. He still had to see Germany and have a beer and do so many things with him. Because now he could, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop him.

He was approaching the Wall with his people, mingled in the crowd. Some had already made it to the other side. People were driving their cars through the checkpoints. Others climbed on top of the Wall and let their joy be heard. Prussia grinned, basking in that feeling.

He caught sight of the armed guards and saluted them. If they had followed their orders and opened fire on the people who wanted to cross, everything would have been different. He would be clutching at his chest and weeping for more of his people who lost their lives to the Wall. 

But they hadn't shot anyone, and everything was fine. Prussia could sense the guards' confusion slowly change into wonder as they watched the world change before their eyes. They were just as much his people as everyone in the crowd, and he was glad that they were happy.

Prussia had done many things as East Germany that he wasn't proud of. The Stasi and massive spying operations on his own people, the mockery of elections, helping Russia deal with the Prague Spring... and of course, the Wall. He had done all that because his government had wanted so. Representations of nations didn't have much choice in such matters, but his sympathies had always been with his people who wanted to be free.

He finally reached the Wall. He didn't want to just walk through a checkpoint; he felt the need to climb over the monstrosity and yell in victory once he was on top. Many had had the same idea, and there was barely any room for more people, but they still grabbed his arms and shoulders and helped him climb up. They all laughed together and hugged each other.

His emotions were running so high that he instantly recognised everyone and knew all there was to know about them. There was Lukas who had been kicked out of university because his sister was politically suspicious. Susanne who exchanged letters with a cousin she had never met. Laura who dreamt of a father on the other side. Paul who was a firm communist but didn't agree with the way their country was being run.

Prussia turned to look over to West Berlin. In the sea of people, it should have been impossible for him to find his brother, but somehow he knew exactly where to look. There he was, standing on his toes and trying to see ahead of him in the crowd, stumbling as he was being pushed around from all sides.

“Hi there, West!” Prussia hollered and lifted his hand in greeting.

The people who were standing on the Wall with him didn't realise he was addressing a person and instantly mimicked his gesture.

“Hi there, West!”

Prussia laughed as he started climbing down. “Sorry guys, but I'm off to have a beer with my brother. See you around!”

It was a wonderful feeling to have his feet touch the ground on the western side. He couldn't quite describe it, but it held the same satisfaction as pushing a sword back into the scabbard once it had been cleaned after battle.

“I'm here, West!” Prussia called out and waved with both hands, hoping that Germany would spot him. It totally sucked that his little brother was taller than him, but maybe he'd be able to see him better in the crowd.

And then he caught a glimpse of Germany's long, brown coat. He pushed his way through the crowd until there was no longer anyone between them. Prussia had imagined that moment so many times, but it felt much better than he had ever thought. He was afraid of doing much more than just breathing and looking at his brother.

It seemed to be the same for Germany because he didn't move to get closer and didn't say a word. Prussia supposed it was up to him, then, to get his shit together and make the first move. 

“Well, what is it? Are you just going to stand there and stare at me? Which would be pretty understandable because I'm – oomph!”

He was cut off when Germany pulled him into a hug that forced the air out of his lungs and made him let out a breathless laugh.

“Missed me?” he asked.

“You have no idea,” Germany croaked.

“Hey, what have I told you about real men and crying?” Then Prussia noticed the wet splotches on Germany's jacket where he had been resting his cheek. “Aww, shit. I guess I can be wrong, too.”

“I didn't think this day would ever come,” Germany said.

“Yeah, it did feel like an impossible dream sometimes.”

At these words, Germany pulled him tighter against him. As happy as Prussia was to see his brother, he rather liked breathing, too, so he tried to pull away.

“Easy there or you'll break me,” he said.

Germany let go so fast that at first Prussia was sure something had happened. He instantly turned to look over his shoulder, half expecting to see the East German border guards arriving with tanks to take everyone back home. But everything was the same; all he could see were celebrating Germans from both sides of the Wall.

“What?” he asked.

Germany shook his head and smiled. “Nothing. Do you want to stay here, or should we go some place quieter?”

“I've felt like my heart has been trying to burst out of my chest for the past few hours. As much as I love this, a break would be nice. And some beer,” Prussia said.

“Then come on. My apartment isn't far from here.”

Germany led Prussia to a small flat only a few blocks away. Prussia chuckled as he looked around in the living room that was separated from the kitchen only by a dining table. This certainly wasn't a good example of the luxury everyone had been thinking awaited them on the other side.

“I wanted to live as close to the Wall as possible. That was all that mattered,” Germany explained, as if guessing what Prussia had to be thinking.

“Well, I hope you've got another place somewhere because this one doesn't match our image of your country.”

“Yes, I normally live in Bonn. For the past few weeks, I've been here. I could sense that something was going to happen,” Germany said.

Prussia had sensed it, too. There had been a growing feeling of restlessness inside him that had made it difficult to sleep at night. It had started with the peaceful demonstrations, and now they had come this far.

“What kind of beer would you like?” Germany asked and walked to the fridge.

“Anything will do,” Prussia said, but then he noticed something much more interesting on the kitchen counter. “You've got bananas, West! Can I have one?”

“Take as many as you want,” Germany replied, and Prussia didn't need to be told twice.

“From now on, I'm eating nothing but bananas. Yum, so good!” he said between mouthfuls of the fruit.

“Slow down. They aren't going anywhere even if you take the time to chew,” Germany said.

“Haha, I guess part of me is worried this is all a dream and I'll wake up back on my side. With no bananas,” Prussia said. And without his brother, he mentally added, but the time for total sissiness had passed.

“It's not a dream,” Germany said. He took two beers from the fridge and came to sit with Prussia at the dining table.

“Sure it is, and we're living it.”

Prussia finished the last banana, feeling a little sick. It could be that Germany had been right after all. Too much of a good thing wasn't necessarily as awesome as he had thought. 

He noticed that Germany was staring at him with a thoughtful look on his face. His brother had always been too serious for his own good, but surely even he should smile a little more at a time like this.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Was it difficult to get to this side?”

“Well, I had to climb over the Wall, but that's just because I didn't want to walk through the checkpoints. That would have been too easy and not nearly as cool!”

“That's not what I meant,” Germany said and put his beer down. He hadn't taken a single gulp yet, Prussia noted. “I mean... What about Russia? Did he try to stop you?”

Prussia frowned at the name. Not too many good memories there. “I think he's too busy with the situation in his own country to care about anyone else right now,” he said. In fact, he was pretty sure Russia's politicians would give their blessing to what had just happened. The world was changing, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

“Good.”

“What's with you, West? Are you afraid Russia will march here to patch up the Wall or something? Because that's not gonna happen.”

“No, no. It's not that. I just have such a hard time believing this actually happened. For so long... I...”

Prussia laughed. “Yeah, yeah, I missed you, too.” He lifted his beer. “Prost! To freedom! And bananas!”

He took a large gulp of his beer – man, they made some kick-ass beer on this side – and regarded his brother with a curious look. “So, what do you think is gonna happen now? Will we stay as two different countries, or do you think they'll make us one?”

“I don't know,” Germany said, but Prussia could tell he was lying. He sure sucked at that.

“Hey, it's totally fine if they're bringing the axe to me. I've kind of suspected that for a long time, and my people really want to be one with yours. They want your cars, your newspapers, your food, your vacations abroad...”

“It's not going to be easy.”

“Yeah, I know. But we'll figure out a way to do it, right? Because we're brothers and all that crap.”

And that finally made Germany reach for his beer again and smile in the way that Prussia had wanted to see.

*** 

Of course, things were far more complicated than that. Even in the middle of the euphoria of his new freedom, Prussia knew that the next year or few would be a hard and decisive time for him and his people. It was likely they would join the western side and finally reunite Germany into one country, just like so many of them had wanted for so long.

The problem was that it was much more difficult in reality than in dreams. The two sides of the country were very different, and the people were used to entirely different lives. Prussia knew his people had the disadvantage; they would be required to change and adapt, and it wasn't all a good thing.

But they would worry about these things when the time came. For now, he was content living in Germany's small apartment in Berlin and doing absolutely nothing.

It was amazing how much Germany had changed and yet remained the same. He was still boring, had no sense of fun or adventure and was all too serious for his own good. The morning after the Wall had fallen, Prussia had woken up to find Germany cleaning up the evidence of their drunken celebration, as if that was really the most important matter on his hands.

On the other hand, he had grown strong and confident. He could stand as an equal among all other nations in Europe even though he had to carry one of the greatest burdens in history. And he had done it all on his own without any help from his older brother. Prussia couldn't have been prouder.

He was currently sitting at the kitchen table, rubbing his temples and trying to keep himself awake with a mug of strong coffee. Germany was seated opposite him and couldn't have looked more different. Already dressed in a suit, browsing through the morning paper with his hair combed neatly back, he was the personification of efficiency and order.

“Do you have a headache?” Germany asked.

“What does it look like?”

“You shouldn't drink so much.”

“Old habits die hard.” In reality, it wasn't just the beer that made him cranky. He was already anticipating the absolute mess that would follow once they started looking into the Stasi files and roasting out spies and corruption in... well, pretty much everywhere. There would be some nasty surprises in store for everyone when certain names popped up.

Germany put his cup down and turned his eyes from his paper to look at Prussia. There was the slightest frown on his face that Prussia knew all too well. His brother was worried about something but didn't have the guts to just say what it was, so he kept mulling it over in his head.

“West, stop staring at me and say what's on your mind.”

“It's nothing. I'm just a little worried about you.”

Prussia snorted. “Because of some beer? That's nothing. You should have seen how much we drank on the other side.”

“I know about that,” Germany said. He paused to adjust his cup on the table so that the handle was to his right. “I hear you also have very high suicide rates.”

“Yeah, well, life was shit sometimes. How did you find out anyway? We were kind of trying to keep that a secret.”

When Germany didn't answer, Prussia couldn't help but chuckle. “Don't tell me you're ashamed of spying on me. Because I and my boys spied on you, too, and I bet we did it more and better.”

All that gathering of information about other countries hadn't perhaps been the right or honourable thing to do, but Prussia would have been lying if he had said it hadn't been fun as hell. He had learnt some truly amazing things about almost every nation in Europe.

“There's no need for any of that anymore. We can forget about it,” Germany said. He still looked uncomfortable, but Prussia thought nothing of it. His brother would loosen up about this topic in a decade or two.

Once the couple of days after the fall of the Berlin Wall had passed, they were both busy arranging things on their sides. They didn't have many chances to talk about anything but work, but Prussia didn't mind that. They had all the time in the world to catch up later, and they had so many things to deal with that doing it all right after they had been reunited would have been overbearing. It was better for them both to have some time to digest everything and get used to the changes that would soon take place.

Germany avoided talking about it as much as he could, but Prussia knew that the German Democratic Republic had a death sentence hanging over its head. The government wanted it. The people wanted it. The rest of the world was ready to accept it. America in particular was willing to renounce the Allies' remaining rights in Germany

Prussia wanted it as well. He had never felt truly at home in his role as East Germany. He was and would always be Prussia, at least in spirit.

And so came October 1990, and the two sides of the country joined into one. Prussia stood by Germany's side the moment everything became official. He could tell how nervous his brother was; he stood stiff, gritting his teeth and looked like he was going to be sick.

“You're almost as pale as me. Cheer up, West. This is the big moment,” Prussia whispered to him, and for once Germany didn't tell him to keep quiet and not disrupt the proceedings.

Losing his status as the German Democratic Republic didn't feel so bad. The tug inside him made Prussia think of pulling out a rotten tooth. Sure, it hurt, but it was only so that it could get better. It was nothing compared to the agony of the dissolution of Prussia.

He felt Germany's worried eyes on him and flashed him a grin to show that he was alright.

“What, did you think that would kill me?” he asked.

“I was afraid that it might. It's difficult to predict what makes a nation... disappear,” Germany replied.

“If the years with Russia didn't do me in, I'm not going to keel over and die just because some stuffy politicians are signing papers,” Prussia said.

He expected to get a chuckle or at least the hint of a smile out of Germany, but his brother immediately turned his eyes away, looking even more forlorn than before.

“You shouldn't make jokes about that,” Germany said.

“But I like gallows humour. And I of all people am allowed to joke as much as I want about it. If someone else does it, okay, then I might punch them. Especially if it's not funny.”

“Well, if it's your way of dealing with it...” Germany said and cleared his throat awkwardly. “I'm sure the capital is going to be moved to Berlin sooner or later. I'm going to find a bigger apartment.”

“Sure, okay.” That felt a little odd, Prussia had to admit. His little brother was taking care of him. He was out of a job. Nobody would be making any demands to him anymore. He no longer had to worry about his foreign policy, tax rates, environmental programs or... holy hell, there went his military budget.

“You know, if you need help with work –“

“No.”

Alright, that was a very definite no. Prussia shrugged and tried to act like he didn't mind at all. 

“Okay. I was just asking anyway, but if you're sure you want all the workload for yourself, fine with me.”

He grinned and reached out to make a mess of Germany's hair that he had spent nearly an hour making perfect for this grand day. “Just don't change your mind later when you're having a burn-out and get jealous of me having an awesome time twenty-four hours a day.”

Germany caught Prussia's hand and shoved it away. “I said no because you have more important things to do than worry about the country.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Yourself.”

“Huh, why is that?” Prussia was the last person in the world to admit that he had any faults, but maybe he was a little selfish sometimes. He wasn't sure what Germany could possibly hope to achieve by making him concentrate even more on himself.

For some reason, Germany wouldn't meet his eyes. “Everything that happened... It can't have been easy. Have some rest. I'd be happy to have your help when you're feeling better.”

“How could I say no to that?” Prussia asked. If his brother wanted him to take a vacation, why not? He put his hands on his hips and turned to look at the politicians who were all shaking hands and congratulating each other. “You know, I'm actually really happy about this. Now that I'm not a nation anymore, I've got all the free time in the world. I can finally do all the things I missed out on in the past decades.”

He could travel and read all the books and watch all the movies that had been forbidden to him. He'd visit his old friends and see what they had been up to. He'd start to enjoy his new, luxurious and capitalist life to the fullest. Then, once he'd had enough, he'd do some work and enjoy the best of both worlds.

Yeah, life as an ex-nation was going to be awesome, he thought. It would have to be because the alternative was a little too frightening to think about.

***

Even though Prussia was no longer a nation, Germany insisted that he should get an allowance from the state so that he could do things on his own and not depend on him for everything. Prussia wasn't sure what the difference was since he wasn't lifting a finger to earn the money in either case, but he wasn't about to complain.

He was now two days into his new life, staring at the forty DM on his palm. It was all that was left of his first allowance. 

“How did you even manage this?” Germany asked and pointed at the pile of junk on Prussia's bed.

They had given up on the small apartment. Its location near where the Wall had stood made it highly valuable, and the government had had some other plans for it. They had hastily moved into a small house. For the time being, Prussia had agreed to bunk in the basement because Germany needed a study, so they didn't have an extra bedroom.

“I couldn't help it, West! I saw all these things at the stores, and I just had to buy them.”

Germany sighed. “We're taking these back tomorrow. You don't need all this. For example, why did you buy a TV? You already have one,” he said.

“That piece of junk? Why would I keep it when I can have a much better one? Isn't that what life on your side was all about? Buying everything you want whenever you want?”

“No,” Germany said. “You're going to have to be responsible with your money. We don't have an indefinite amount of it.”

“What, so our fantasies were all wrong?”

“I believe that's part of the definition.”

Prussia shrugged. “Oh, well. I guess we can take some of these back. At least this vacuum cleaner and –”

“Why did you buy that? You don't even like cleaning.”

“Twenty percent discount.”

“You should keep one pair of these shoes, but the four others can go.”

In hindsight, Prussia supposed it had been stupid to overdo it. He had just... lost himself somehow. He was used to the mentality that when there was something nice at the stores, you bought as many as you could afford and later traded them for something else with your friends and neighbours.

“Sorry. It was instinct. I forgot everything worth buying won't be sold out in half an hour,” he said with a pout.

“Luckily, you have plenty of time to get used to the idea now that you've run out of money for this month. We probably won't be able to return all of these, but we can try.”

“I'm keeping the NES.”

“The what?”

Prussia dug out one box from the bottom of the pile and showed it to his brother. “It's a video game system from Japan's house! I've wanted one for years. And that's why I'm keeping the new TV, too.”

Germany looked like he was about to argue, but then he changed his mind. “Fine. It's your money. Just pick whatever you want to keep and bring the rest upstairs.”

He was about to go back up, but then he stopped to take another look around. “This is just temporary,” he said.

“What, the basement? I don't mind too much. With some redecoration, it could be pretty cool, and it's got character.” Prussia's grin widened as he gave his brother a pat to the shoulder. “And I've got to admit that it kind of reminds me of my old place. If I ever get stupid and start to feel nostalgic, I'm going to feel right at home here.”

Germany didn't find the joke very funny. “You aren't going to live in the basement,” he said, more firmly this time. “You aren't an animal or a prisoner. If this is like your home in the East, it's all the more reason for us to get a better house soon.”

Prussia regarded his brother with a curious look. At first he had thought he was imagining it, but there were times when he was sure that Germany looked at him funnily. Like he was waiting for something to happen and didn't want to miss it.

It wasn't unusual for Germany to keep an eye on him. Prussia had always been the one to get into trouble, and even as a child Germany had tended to be the one who had to tell him that the consequences of some of his ideas might not be that awesome. It was just that this time Prussia had no idea what he had done to deserve that look.

He had asked, of course. Every time, Germany told him that nothing was wrong. If he was feeling generous, he even managed to look straight at Prussia as he said this and maybe give some kind of vague explanation about how he was just spacing out because he was tired from work.

Prussia's first instinct had been to throttle Germany and just make him say what was on his mind, just like he had always done before their separation. Then he had decided against it. He didn't understand Germany's behaviour, so whatever was causing it had to be something that had happened during their years apart.

As much as admitting it sucked, neither of them was the same person as before. They had lived separated for too long to know each other the way they once had. In fact, Prussia was downright surprised by some of the interests that Germany had picked up over the past years.

Since Germany had a lot more stuff than he did, he had been helping him with the boxes when they had moved into this house. He had opened one that was full of books meant for Germany's study and had started to organize them on the shelf. To his great surprise, the box had been full of books on psychology, trauma and all kinds of mental disorders.

He had been about to ask if Austria had made him read them, but Germany had snatched the box from him and told him not to touch his books again. It was another reaction that left Prussia baffled. He might have understood it if it were a secret porn stash he had found, but there was nothing dubious about reading books like that.

Unless Germany had hidden porn between the pages, of course. He was going to check that out some time later when he was alone at the house.

Another strange incident occurred about a week later when Prussia was taking a shower one morning. There was a knock on the door that made him turn off the water.

“What is it? Am I singing too loud?” he asked.

“I just want to know how much longer it's going to take. I need to get something, and I'm in a hurry to get to a meeting,” Germany said.

“Then come and get it. The door's not locked,” Prussia said. He turned the water back on, but then he realised that Germany wasn't coming in. He turned it off again and walked to the door.

Germany jumped back when Prussia pulled the door open.

“I told you to get in,” Prussia said.

“Uh, I'm not in such a hurry after all. I can wait,” Germany said. For once, Prussia noted, he was actually looking at his face instead of the floor or some other part of his body.

That thought finally made something click, and he threw his head back and laughed. “West, don't tell me you didn't want to come in because I'm here! Have you turned into a complete prude or something?”

“No, I –”

“You've seen everything there is to see about me years ago!” Prussia spread his arms and legs into an X for emphasis. “Or maybe you were intimidated. You may be taller and the actual nation in this house, but I'm much, much luckier where it matters the most!”

“I just thought it might make you feel uncomfortable,” Germany said.

“Why would it make me uncomfortable to show myself to my brother? Come on, don't be stupid!”

“Never mind. I'll just take the comb I came for,” Germany said. He pushed past Prussia and went to look for his things by the sink.

Prussia decided that he had had enough of showering and grabbed a towel for drying his hair. He expected Germany to be out and on his way in no time – he was supposed to be in a hurry, after all – so he was a little surprised to see him still in the bathroom when he turned around. And not just that, but he was staring at him.

“Checking out my ass?” Prussia asked.

“You have new scars.”

“Oh. Well, we all have scars.” Prussia returned to drying his hair, hoping that the conversation would end there. He liked most of his scars, even those that he had got in battles that he had lost. They were a reminder of his pride and fighting spirit and how he could stand back up to kick his enemies' ass on the next round. 

“How did you get this one?” Germany asked in a tight voice, and though Prussia couldn't see what he was pointing at, he knew which one Germany meant.

“1953,” he said.

A pause.

“It was Russia,” Germany said.

Though Germany hadn't touched the scar, Prussia still shivered, as if he had run his finger down its length. This was one of the scars he didn't like. It hadn't been a fair battle, just soldiers and police officers shooting down civilians who were protesting for their rights. No hope of a glorious revenge. 

He tried to laugh. “It looks good on me, doesn't it?” he asked and hung the towel over his shoulders so that the scar was hidden from view.

He saw that Germany was clutching his little comb in his hand so hard that it would either snap in two or draw blood soon.

“Hey, relax. Didn't you just buy that the other day? And since you insist on being boring and thrifty, you only bought one, so you'll be in trouble if you break it,” he said.

Germany moved the comb from one hand to the other, but he didn't look much more relaxed. It was no surprise; Germany probably wouldn't have looked relaxed even if he had been tanning on the beach and drinking cold beer. And yet getting this worked up over little things like unfortunate scars was over the top even for him.

“If you... if you ever need to talk about that...” he started, but then he seemed to forget what he wanted to say and let his voice fade away.

“Nah, I'm okay,” Prussia said. He didn't really want to reminisce such old things with his brother. He had a new life ahead of him, so when he felt like putting aside some time to talk about the past, it had better be only about the awesome things that he had done.

Germany didn't look convinced. “Are you sure? We haven't really had the time to talk about everything that happened. I know you've experienced some very difficult things, and as your brother –”

Prussia laughed. “Is this really the best time to start bonding, West? I thought you had to go to a meeting.”

“Oh, right.” Germany glanced at his watch. “I'm late!”

“Tell them you were distracted by your naked brother. I'm sure they'll understand.”

“That's not funny.”

“Okay, so take me to the next meeting. When they see me, _then_ they'll understand!”

***

As weeks passed, Prussia reluctantly had to admit that life as an ex-nation wasn't as awesome as he had thought and hoped it would be. At first, he had loved sleeping in and spending his days watching TV, playing his NES and drinking beer, but that quickly became monotonous. Germany's presence at the house – or the lack of it since he was so much away in meetings – was a constant reminder of the life he had once led and could never have back.

He had been in contact with his old friends, but it would take a while before they'd feel comfortable with each other again. In France's case, Prussia would have to consider especially hard if he still felt like staying in the same room with him. The bastard had been just a little too eager to demand for his dissolution all those years ago, and Prussia didn't forget such things easily.

Most mornings, the house was empty and breakfast made when he got up. He spent the day trying to have fun, and by the time Germany came back, he had usually managed to convince himself that he had had the most awesome day ever and it was therefore no problem that his brother retreated into his study to do paperwork.

He couldn't bring himself to tell Germany that he might be feeling just a little bit lonely. Germany was working so hard to make everything work in their new, unified country. It was far from an easy job, and Prussia didn't want to add to Germany's troubles.

Even though Prussia no longer had a country to his name, the people from the former East Germany were still his. In addition to their happiness and excitement, he could feel their anger, fear and disappointment because their new life wasn't what they had expected. It would take years before the standard of living in the east was the same as in the west.

He was also a little ashamed of himself. Prussia had been such a strong and proud nation. Though his strength had left him, the pride was still very much lodged in his heart. He couldn't let anyone see that he wasn't happy as a former nation, especially those who had seen his days of glory. They'd pity him, and that would be even more difficult to bear than loneliness.

“I've decided that I want to help you with work now,” he said one morning when he had got up early to catch Germany before he left.

Germany glanced at him over his paper. “You don't have to. I'm fine by myself.”

“Come on, don't lie to me! You're hardly ever at the house, and even when you're here you spend most of your time working. You could use a hand.”

“It's not that bad, really,” Germany said.

Prussia shot him an accusing look. “You were working last Saturday instead of watching football with me. I had to drink all that beer by myself.”

“I had to prepare some important reports for Monday,” Germany said, but then he sighed in defeat. “Maybe you're right. The workload is a little more than I'm used to, but it's very important that I do it. The world needs to see that this can work.”

“But that's just it, West! We need to show them that this unified Germany has a future! And what a better way to do it than let me help?”

“Wouldn't you rather keep playing your videos?”

“Video _games_ ,” Prussia corrected. And no, he wouldn't rather be playing them, but he didn't say that.

“I'll hand some of the work over to my aides. You should have some more rest and work everything out,” Germany said.

Work out what, Prussia wanted to ask, but Germany folded his paper into two and got up from the table. Prussia had no choice but to swallow his disappointment and wish his brother a fun day at work.

After breakfast, Prussia spent two hours lying on the couch and watching TV. Then he called Spain, but he was busy and couldn't talk for long. Prussia lay another hour on the couch and stared at the ceiling, feeling like he should have got up and done something but having no interest to do anything.

His time as East Germany had been pretty shitty, but now he almost missed it. At least he had had something productive to do then. Now he just felt useless, like nobody needed him.

Damn, he had to get his shit together. Moping around like this was pathetic. There were plenty of things he could do. Like go out for a walk for one thing.

It was a chilly November, but Prussia was lucky enough to have a thick coat. He wasn't planning to go far, but his legs seemed to have a mind of their own. Before he even realised where he was going, he found himself standing in the middle of Alexanderplatz, near the fountain. He sat down to watch the people go about their business.

He soon got company. An old man came to sit by his side. Prussia glanced at him from the corner of his eye but didn't say anything, so they sat in silence for a long time as everyone else was busy with something.

“So, why isn't a young, healthy man like you at work at this time of the day?” the old man finally asked.

“I have no work,” Prussia said.

“Then why aren't you looking for some?”

“They don't want me.”

Prussia didn't mind talking to the old man. He was one of his people, and it almost felt like coming home to just sit with him. Which was stupid because his home was with his brother.

The old man let out a sympathetic hum. “Have you thought about moving to west?”

It hadn't even crossed Prussia's mind to leave Berlin. He had felt the longing for west as soon as he had started to oversee the work to build the Wall, but now that the border was gone, he didn't want to go. If he had to leave, he'd much rather move to a place like Dresden.

He shook his head. “No. I want to stay here.”

“I wish more people were like you,” the old man said. “I've got two sons. Both took their families and left, one to Düsseldorf and the other to Köln. The work is better, they get paid more, and they want the kids to go to school there.”

“Everything's better there,” Prussia agreed. “And why didn't you go with them?”

“What for? All my friends live here, and my wife is buried here.”

“I see.”

“And you? Your family still here?”

“I live with my brother. I don't think he's going anywhere. He's got a government job.” Prussia thought of Old Fritz who was currently at the Hohenzollern Castle. He'd have to ask Germany if he could be brought to rest in Potsdam or something.

The man by his side snorted. “Then he's one of them.”

“One of them?”

“These bastards who want to forget that the East ever even existed. To them, reunification means that we have to change and become like them. And the idiots on our side are falling for it and leaving their homes and forgetting where they're from.”

Prussia gave the man a long, thoughtful look, which he immediately misunderstood.

“It's not the ideology I miss. But East Germany was my home country for most of my life. Now it's gone, and nobody seems to care,” the man said.

Prussia didn't answer. His chest felt hollow in a way that he hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge ever since he had lost his country. He should have been happy, he knew. This was better for everyone. Germany was meant to be one country.

He looked at the old man's wrinkled face and wondered if it was because of people like him that he was still alive. Would he die together with the last generation that remembered life in the East? Was it possible to prevent that? If he started working together with Germany and made himself important?

The old man let out a sigh and got up on his feet. “You'll be fine,” he said. “Young people like you adapt so well. In a year or two, you'll have forgotten there ever was a border.”

Prussia watched the man leave, the words that were meant as hopeful gnawing at his heart.

On a whim, he stopped at a liquor store on his way home and bought a bottle of vodka. He felt like he needed something stronger that day, and he suddenly wanted to feel the familiar burn of the alcohol on his tongue.


	3. Chapter 3

Germany got home late that night. The meeting about what to do about the school system had dragged on and on, and he hadn't wanted to interrupt it no matter how tired he was. As far as he was concerned, it was one of the most important issues at hand.

“I'm back,” he announced when he entered, but there was no reply. He could hear the TV in the living room, so he supposed Prussia was too into some movie to hear anything else.

He was a little worried about his brother. He hadn't been sure what to expect when the Wall had come down, but he had thought that Prussia would have opened up to him by now. He had to talk about what Russia had done to him before he could heal, or at least the books Germany had read said so. 

It wasn't healthy to keep it all inside and pretend that everything was fine, but it looked like that was exactly what Prussia was doing. Maybe he was in denial and thought that he could forget everything if he enjoyed his new life to the fullest and didn't stop to think about the past.

Germany wasn't sure what to do. He really didn't want to just ask Prussia about such a personal and painful topic. He knew he wasn't good at understanding other people's feelings – most of the time, he could hardly understand his own – and he might just end up hurting Prussia even more with some badly chosen word. Besides, the books said he shouldn't force a victim into talking about their experiences.

He walked to the kitchen to make a quick sandwich. As he mechanically cut himself two slices of sausage, he tried to come up with logical, convincing arguments for Prussia's sake. His brother was strong. Maybe he had already dealt with everything in his own way. Maybe everything was fine after all.

But as Germany stepped into the living room, his mental chart came crashing down.

Prussia was sprawled on the couch, asleep and with half a bottle of vodka cradled in his arms.

Germany swore under his breath. He had been afraid of this. Prussia's new life had kept him distracted for a while, but it hadn't magically made any of his problems disappear. Now that buying things and playing video games didn't help anymore, he had turned to more traditional means to escape the wounds of his past.

He took the bottle from Prussia's hands and placed it on the living room table.

“Come on, let's get you to bed,” he said and shook his brother's shoulder.

Prussia didn't wake up, but he muttered something in a slurred voice. Germany didn't understand a word, but he recognised the language and felt his heart break.

Russian.

Germany gritted his teeth. His brother was clearly not over what had happened to him. He was just trying to hide it, maybe because he didn't want to let his little brother think he was weak.

He carried Prussia to his room in the basement and placed him on the bed. He drew a blanket over him and stepped back to watch him sleep.

Prussia wasn't yet ready to return to work. He needed to heal first. Germany didn't know how he'd do it, but somehow he'd find a way to reach out to his brother and help him. He'd make Prussia understand that he was the strongest person Germany had ever known.

***

Prussia kept an eye on Germany as they were eating dinner. The amount of beer in the house had decreased greatly during the past week. Not because they were drinking it, oh no. It was because Germany wasn't buying it anymore.

Prussia suspected it was the result of his moment of weakness when he had downed nearly half a bottle of vodka by himself. He regretted that now, and not just because Germany was acting like an ass and blowing it out of proportion like he had an alcohol problem or something. The main issue was that he hated the taste of vodka and the memories it brought back. He had no idea why he had suddenly missed that poison enough to drink it again.

“You came early today,” Prussia said.

“The meeting went better than expected,” Germany replied.

Prussia didn't bother to ask for details. Germany didn't want to talk about work with him, and he was above whining about it. He figured Germany probably wanted everything to calm down and things to run smoothly before he let him help. That was just like him; he always wanted everything to be perfect and organized. But once it all finally worked like a unified country was meant to, surely Germany would accept his help then.

“There's one of America's movies on TV tonight. Wanna watch it?” Prussia asked.

“I don't know if I'll have the time. I have to catch up with my reading.”

“You're always reading. When did you turn into a bookworm? And why? You had access to all the best movies and music, and you're still reading. At least tell me it's a good thriller.”

“Something like that,” Germany said, and Prussia knew that it was nothing like that.

He couldn't understand what had got to his brother lately. The longer they lived together, the more distant they seemed to grow. Germany was always busy. Prussia didn't blame him for that; his brother worked hard so that they could continue to live under the same roof. What he did have a problem with was how Germany spent so much of his free time with his boring-ass hobbies. It was like he was avoiding him.

“Suit yourself. If you want to miss such an awesome movie, it's your own fault,” he said.

After dinner, Germany retreated to his study to read while Prussia claimed the whole couch and turned on the TV. The movie wouldn't start in two more hours, but he couldn't think of anything else to do.

He caught the last fifteen minutes of some stupid sitcom that couldn't have interested him less. Then there were the news, but he instantly switched the channel. No need to watch that depressing crap.

The movie finally started. It was the kind of film he loved these days. An American secret agent was kicking communist ass left and right and having sex with at least three different women. He'd have to call America and ask him to send over a box full of VHSs with that kind of stuff.

Every sound from the study made him turn to look at the stairs. Maybe Germany was done with his reading and would come down to watch the rest of the movie with him. Or not. From the sound of it, he had just walked to his bookshelf.

“Psychology,” Prussia muttered in distaste. Austria had to have done something to Germany. Why else would he rather read his stuffy books than hang out with his brother? There was no other explanation.

Finally, nearly an hour after the movie had started, there was a creak at the top of the stairs that revealed that Germany had finally left his room. Prussia glued his eyes to the TV screen and didn't turn to look even when he heard his brother come downstairs.

“How is the movie?” Germany asked.

“What? Oh! I didn't notice you at all! It's awesome. The best movie I've ever seen,” Prussia said.

Germany came to sit on the couch, so Prussia straightened his back and sat right to give him some space.

“What's the plot?” Germany asked.

“I don't think you can get into it anymore. It's too late. You shouldn't have been reading so much,” Prussia said.

“It can't be that complicated. These movies never are.”

They fell into silence. Whatever little enjoyment Prussia had got out of the movie was gone now. It was actually worse now that Germany had joined him. He felt even more distant sitting next to him than locked up in his study.

Prussia couldn't understand that. Where was the beer? Where was the long-suffering smile Germany was supposed to flash at him when he cracked some stupid joke? Why was his brother so goddamn serious and worried all the time?

The movie suddenly switched from a car chase to the villain's lair where he had just discovered that his girlfriend had fallen for the charms of the brave hero. The villain gave her slap that sent her on his desk, and soon he was leaning over her, strangling her.

“Let's not watch this,” Germany said. He walked to the TV and switched the channel.

“What? Why not? Nothing's gonna happen to her! America made this movie! The hero will be there in a second!” Prussia protested.

“I don't like seeing it. It's not right to use a situation like that for entertainment. Besides, that scene was set up like it was her fault that he attacked her because she had been with another man behind his back.”

“It's just fiction!”

Germany stared stubbornly at the TV that was now playing a documentary about frogs. “I just don't like what it implies. It's never the victim's fault, no matter what.” At this, he turned to look at Prussia and gave him a long look that Prussia might have described as worried. “You know that, don't you?”

“Yeah, of course I know that.”

“I mean... Regardless of the circumstances. The fault is always...”

“I said I know that! Shit, West. It's the first time in a week that we can watch TV together, and you want to talk about crap like that?”

“I think it's important,” Germany said.

Prussia threw up his hands. Fuck this, seriously. “Fine. It's important. But I don't want to talk about it, okay?”

In fact, he didn't want to watch TV anymore either. If his brother wanted to be boring and talk shit, he could do that by himself. Prussia could do more entertaining things in the basement.

“Wait, I'm sorry!” Germany called out after him, but Prussia was too pissed off to care. He slammed the basement door shut and hopped on his bed, fuming. Dammit, what had he done to deserve a brother like that?

***

Germany gritted his teeth and willed the flame of guilt in his heart to die. What he was about to do wasn't right and Prussia would have his head if he ever found out, but he didn't have any other options. It was wrong, but it was also the only choice that felt right.

“So,” he started, quickly going through the script he had saved into his mind. “You've been saying that you'd like to help me with work.”

Prussia looked up from the comic book he was reading while he ate his cereal. “Yeah! Do you have something for me?”

His brother looked so eager and happily surprised that Germany almost changed his mind about his plan. But no, he had to go through with this. “There's a new museum that will open next weekend in Husum. It has been largely funded by respected members of the society, so the boss wants someone official to be present,” he said.

“You want me to open some museum?” Prussia asked after regarding him with a long look.

Germany almost felt relieved. “Well, if you don't want to –”

“I'll do it! Just where is this Husum? Is it even in Germany?”

“It's in Schleswig-Holstein, not that far away from the Danish border. One of the donators is from Denmark, so he might be there as well.”

“Cool,” Prussia said, eyes shining. “Then it's like an international event! You can count on me, West. I can so do this job!”

“Good,” Germany said. Well, he had one problem less to worry about now.

His boss had given him a terrible surprise the previous day. A couple of politicians from the Soviet Union were arriving. That alone wouldn't have been a problem, but they were bringing Russia along. And apparently Russia had requested to be invited to dinner at Germany's house.

Germany had tried to say no, but all of his arguments had been shot down. Even now when the Soviet Union had grown so weak, his politicians were still afraid of what might happen if they crossed them. Besides, his boss had argued, it was just a dinner. What could go wrong?

Well, his boss didn't have a brother who had been violated by Russia and was still struggling with it. Germany knew he couldn't possibly bring Russia to their house or at least let Prussia know he had been there. Despite their original intention of moving to a bigger place, the house had turned into their home. It was probably the safest place in Prussia's life. Germany couldn't shatter that by allowing his abuser to enter it.

So, Prussia had to leave the house for all of Saturday. Germany would delete all the evidence of Russia ever having been there. Prussia would never find out, so it wouldn't hurt him. Or at least that was how Germany justified his actions to himself. He wasn't technically lying to him; he just wouldn't tell him everything.

He took Prussia to the train station early on Saturday morning when there wasn't yet a hint of sunlight on the sky and when the biting cold made one want to withdraw into oneself. Germany had his hands tucked firmly in his pockets, but Prussia didn't seem to mind the chill. His cheeks were aflame with excitement as he kept looking over the disorganized scribbles that he claimed were notes.

“You sure you don't want to come along? You're going to miss my awesome speech!”

“I have to prepare a few things for Monday. Sorry,” Germany said.

“Nah, no problem. Just make sure you'll be there next time, okay?” 

“Of course.”

Prussia grinned at that, but Germany couldn't tell if it was because he had said he'd come or because of the indirect promise that there was going to be a next time. In either case, Prussia looked so happy as the train finally came and he climbed on board that Germany was momentarily able to forget his gnawing guilt at what he was doing.

Once the train was out of sight, Germany turned around and started walking back to his car. The worst was still ahead. Somehow, he'd have to tolerate Russia and try to be civil to him. There'd be nobody to stop him if he lost his temper. He'd just have to try to endure it.

Germany tried to calm down by organizing the defence of their house. He locked the door to the basement so that Russia wouldn't be able to go there even by accident. He hid all of Prussia's belongings and made it look like he wasn't even living with him. There could be nothing left that would give Russia a reason to mention Prussia.

Once that was taken care of, Germany started cooking. He even baked a cake to soothe his nerves. By the time he saw Russia get off a black car and stop to admire their house on the pavement, he was almost sure he could make it through the day. 

“Hello, Germany. So nice of you to invite me,” Russia said as Germany opened the door to let him in.

“Don't mention it,” Germany said, deciding to ignore that Russia had practically invited himself.

Russia took off his long coat and the scarf that usually hid his neck and chin from view. Germany couldn't remember the last time he had seen Russia without them, so he was a little startled by the simple, grey pullover the nation was wearing. And not just that. It looked like Russia had lost some weight since he had last met him.

“It's not quite so cold anymore,” Russia said with a smile as he noticed Germany staring at him.

“True.”

He led Russia to the living room where the larger nation proceeded to admire the couch and the Bavarian landscapes that Germany had hung on the walls. There was nothing threatening about any of his words or movements, and yet Germany couldn't tear his eyes off his guest. Seeing Russia up close always brought a bad taste to his mouth. Had he smiled like that when he had –

“You have a very beautiful house, Germany,” Russia said pleasantly, turning to look at him.

“Thank you,” Germany said. “I think dinner is almost ready. Would you like to eat now?” The sooner they ate, the sooner he could try to get Russia out.

“That would be nice.”

Since the house was so small, they didn't have a dining room separate from the kitchen. Germany apologized for that as they settled down, but Russia assured him it was fine. It had a homey feel to it, he said.

“It's been a while since I last had German food for dinner. I developed a taste for it over the years,” he said.

“Ah,” was all that Germany could bring himself to say. He busied himself with moving his smashed potatoes around the plate.

“But I have one question. Where is Prussia?”

Germany clenched his fork so hard in his fingers that it hurt, but he barely noticed that. He had known the question would come. He was certain that it was the sole reason for Russia's visit. The bastard had just come to show his face, to tell Prussia that even if he had escaped his clutches, he was not safe. Because Russia could invite himself over to their house. Because he would be at world meetings.

“He's not here,” he said.

“Yes, the house is very clean. Prussia is a bit of a messy person,” Russia said, and the affection in his voice nearly made Germany gag.

“It's too bad,” Russia continued. “I was hoping I could speak with him.”

“What do you want from my brother? You have no business with him anymore.”

Russia lowered his eyes for a moment. If Germany hadn't known what he was capable of, he might have thought he looked nearly vulnerable as he stared at the half-eaten food on his plate.

“The atmosphere in my house is changing. I think everyone is going to leave me soon. The Soviet Union will be dissolved,” Russia said. When he turned to look at Germany, there was a small, hopeful smile playing on his lips. “I know it's not quite the same thing. I will still have Russia to my name. But I was hoping that your brother could tell me what it feels like.”

It took a long time before Germany could control his voice again. “You want Prussia to tell you about his dissolution?” he asked, not quite ready to believe that. 

“Yes, but I also wanted to say hello. It's been a while since I last saw him, and I've missed him a little,” Russia said.

“Prussia hasn't told about that even to me. What makes you think he would ever talk to you?” Germany asked. He heard the outrage in his voice, but he didn't care. All his guilt about making Prussia leave was forgotten.

“He used to talk to me about many things. Even things he said he hadn't told you about,” Russia pointed out.

“Well, not anymore. He doesn't belong to you. You've done enough to hurt him, and I will make sure you'll never again be near him!”

Russia frowned in confusion. “I am not here to threaten anyone.”

“I don't care why you came here. You aren't welcome at my house.”

“Ah, that's not nice, Germany,” Russia said. In the past, Germany would have read malicious amusement and superiority into his words. Now Russia sounded... He couldn't really tell; the tone was too off. Confused? Disappointed? In any case, Russia wasn't acting like the bloodthirsty monster he'd seen him as for decades.

Russia lifted his hand to his neck, like he wanted to play with his scarf, but then he seemed to remember that he wasn't wearing it.

“I didn't do anything when you broke the Wall. I let Prussia come to you. I didn't try to stop your reunification even when England and France asked me to. I was hoping you would appreciate that,” he said.

Germany looked at Russia, and he suddenly realised what this was all about. Russia was a nation who had taken over many others and forced them to live with him and follow his ideology. That artificial family he had built for himself was about to break apart, and he would be surrounded by neighbours who feared and resented him.

It would be years before Russia would have his country stable again. He'd need much longer before he could even hope to win the trust of the other nations. It was a lonely future for someone who had lived in a house full of people for almost the entire century.

Germany of all people knew what it was like to have strong and influential politicians who nearly made your chest burst with pride and the passion of their ideology. He knew what it felt like to be so certain that he was doing the right thing and that the rest of the world was wrong. He also knew how difficult it was to carry the weight of past mistakes that were so horrifying that nobody would ever forget them. 

At that moment, he felt compelled to reach out and if not help, then at least pity Russia. He hated himself for that at the same time. This man had inflicted such wounds on his brother that they might never heal. He didn't deserve pity or compassion.

“If... If Prussia can forgive you, maybe I can as well,” he heard himself say. “But not now. It's too soon, and there is still so much work to do.”

“I'm not sure I understand,” Russia said.

“You know exactly what I'm talking about!” Germany snarled. “Maybe you thought you were being careful. Maybe it's because of something you've done or said that Prussia won't talk to me. But I know exactly how you've hurt him! I have proof!”

He yearned to see fear flash in Russia's eyes, even if it was only a fraction of the fear his brother had lived with for decades. However, Russia was still staring at him like he had no idea what he was talking about. Could it be that he didn't see anything wrong with his actions? Maybe he thought it had been consensual or for Prussia's own good? Had Russia been moulding him into what he wanted, an obedient lackey?

The thought made his stomach clench, and the temptation to understand Russia's point of view vanished at once.

“But –”

“Enough! Out!”

Russia stared at him like he had gone out of his mind, but then he flashed him a forced smile.

“Fine. I can see I'm not a welcome guest. Too bad. I think we could have been great friends,” he said and got up.

Germany followed Russia to the door and watched him put his coat and scarf back on. That was comforting; Russia looked more like himself again.

“I'm not very happy when people throw me out,” Russia announced.

Germany snorted. “Your ominous remarks are no longer threatening. After you've been dissolved and are all alone, I hope you'll finally realise that it's all your own fault,” he said.

Russia's smile turned so icy that Germany was sure he could feel the temperature in the room drop.

“Unlike your brother, I won't be dissolved for good. When I'm strong again, I will remember who has been nice to me and who hasn't,” he said. He gave Germany a small wave as he opened the door and stepped outside. “I'll think of especially you on that day. Thank you for the dinner. It was lovely.”

Germany remained by the door and watched Russia walk away on the pavement. He didn't move until the other nation had stepped behind a corner and was no longer in sight. At that moment, all his anger left him, and he stumbled back inside.

His boss was going to be furious with him. Germany always did everything to perfection; he never disobeyed orders. And now he had thrown out and insulted a nation who, despite what he had said, still was and would always be a powerful presence in Europe.

He scanned the kitchen and the unfinished remains of their dinner. He should clean up and do the dishes. To be sure, he'd have to air the house so that Prussia wouldn't recognise the scent of Russia's cologne. And all of Prussia's things needed to be put back where they belonged.

But he'd do that later, he decided. Now he was too exhausted. There was no need to hurry. Prussia wouldn't be back until the next day.

***

Prussia was staring out of the window of the train, feeling irritated. Bare and brown landscape was flashing past his eyes. It would be almost midnight by the time he arrived home. It might have been a good idea to stay in Husum for the night, just like he had planned, but those plans had changed when he had found out a few interesting details about the whole ordeal.

The museum he had been asked to open had been pitiful, barely a local attraction. When he had arrived there, full of energy and psyched to give his speech, only a handful of people had been present. None of them had been these highly respected donators that Germany had mentioned.

Denmark hadn't been there either. After wasting his awesome speech on a bunch of grannies and a school class who had been dragged there by their teacher, Prussia had stomped outside to find a phone booth. He had called Denmark and asked where the heck he was. He had been disappointed – but not really surprised – when Denmark hadn't had any idea what he had been talking about.

It was starting to look like Germany had given him a total crap job. Prussia wouldn't have minded so much if he had known that from the start, but Germany's words had led him to believe that he'd be doing something important. Being duped wasn't fun, especially when the culprit was his brother.

If it had been anyone else, Prussia would have thought it was all a joke. Germany didn't joke, so there had to be another reason. At first he had considered the possibility that his brother had simply wanted to make him happy and give him something – anything – to do. But that didn't add up. There were countless other jobs he could have done in Berlin alone. There was no need to send him that far away just to watch some old geezer make his stamp collection public.

He frowned as he kept staring out the window. It was already too dark to see anything but the lights of the houses in the distance.

Could it be that Germany didn't trust him with anything bigger? Maybe he had wanted to test him first? But this hadn't been much of a test; anyone could be present when a museum was opened. And Germany knew what he was capable of. Hell, Prussia had taught him how to run a country!

Once in Berlin, he rode the U-Bahn and then took the bus to get home. There was no light in any of the windows that could be seen from the street, so Germany had to be in bed. Prussia made as much noise as possible as he let himself in.

He turned on the light in the hallway and was about to take off his coat, but the sight of the clothes stand made him stop. It looked awfully empty, but it took a moment before everything clicked to place in his mind.

His leather jacket and scarf were gone. How strange, had Germany taken them out to be washed?

Frowning, he put away his coat and took off his shoes. He wandered into the kitchen to grab something to eat. Everything there was spotless as usual, but a new surprise was waiting for him when he opened the cupboard to get his bunny mug. It wasn't there, nor in the dishwasher.

“Is this the right house?” he asked out loud as he stood in the middle of the kitchen with his hands on his hips. He didn't mind the jacket, but Germany knew not to touch his mug without asking first.

He was too tired to wonder about that now. He'd do that in the morning. First he'd get some sleep and – and why the hell was the door to his room locked? Had he done that before he had left?

Prussia returned to the kitchen to get the key (they only had one, so Germany didn't let him keep it because he believed he'd lose it) and opened the door. He turned on the light and went down the stairs, but he stopped to stand in the middle of them and stared at the sight that greeted him.

His coat was folded neatly on his bed. The missing mug stood on his desk. A number of other items he hadn't even realised were gone littered the room, including all of his shoes and even his bottle of shampoo.

For a moment, he could only stand and gawk. It couldn't be anyone else but Germany who had done this, but why?

“Hey, West!” he bellowed as he turned around and marched back to the kitchen and then upstairs to Germany's bedroom. To his surprise, it was empty, so he continued to his brother's study.

That was where he found Germany. He was sprawled on his desk, having fallen asleep on top of the paperwork he had been reading. At some point, he had knocked over his reading lamp. If Prussia hadn't been feeling so tired and irritated, he might have found the scene amusing.

“Wake up!” he snarled and shook Germany's shoulder.

“...what?” Germany mumbled, straightened his form and stared at him in confusion, still half asleep. Then his eyes widened and he jumped to his feet. “Prussia! What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” Prussia said. “Or at least I think so. Why are all my things in the basement?”

“I... put them there,” Germany stammered, looking very much like a deer caught in headlights. Prussia was reminded of how his brother had been younger and he had caught him jerking off for the time.

“Why?”

“I was going to clean the house and... It was just easier to plan and organize everything that way.”

Prussia snorted. “Yeah, right. Then why is everything else in its proper place?”

“Well...”

“You have no idea what a shitty day I had. It's not exactly fun to come home and see that everything I own has been dumped in the basement. It's like you –” He stopped before he could finish, the sudden idea hitting him like a brick to the face and feeling just about as nice. His eyes narrowed as he glared at his brother with new suspicion.

“It's like you wanted me out of the house and then tried to hide the fact that I live here. You would only do that if someone was coming over and you didn't want them to know about me,” he said. That was stupid, of course. Everybody knew the two of them were living together. Except normal people.

The guilty look on Germany's face told him more than any words could have. So, he had had someone over.

“Great,” Prussia said sulkily and shoved his hands into his pockets. “You could have just told me you were ashamed of me. I could have picked up my clothes in the living room or washed the toilet or something.”

“I'm not ashamed of you! Never that!”

“Yeah, but you still lied to me to make me leave and hid all my things. Just who the hell was so important that you had to do that?” Prussia asked. He tried to suppress the ache that came from imagining Germany meticulously removing all of his things from sight and making the house look perfect – making it look like Germany's house, all neat and organized with no sign of Prussia anywhere. 

“It had better be someone damn good, West,” he added. Like a super hot date.

“There was a business dinner,” Germany said.

That told Prussia more than enough. A business dinner meant politicians. Politicians probably meant something about the after effects of the reunification. Since Germany had seen it necessary to get him out of the house, that seemed more than likely.

“I see,” he said.

“It's not that I didn't want you to be there. I just...”

Prussia's anger was bubbling inside him, making him feel hot and curl his toes. He wanted to yell at Germany and tell him that he knew that was exactly what he had wanted, but he was afraid to. Because if he pushed Germany far enough, he might say that he was right. It was much better to swallow his anger if that let him pretend that this was something else than what the voice inside him was whispering into his ear.

“Okay,” he said shakily.”Whatever. It was just a business dinner.”

As he spoke, his eyes stole a look at Germany's desk and the paperwork his brother had been sleeping on. It was as if the words and numbers were laughing at him, but he couldn't turn away. Just as he had expected. This confirmed his suspicions.

Germany followed Prussia's gaze and started putting the papers away. “I wanted to put everything back in place before you came back,” he said.

“Yeah, sorry for not wanting to stick around in that boring place. Even Denmark wasn't there,” Prussia said.

Germany winced. “I'm sorry. I was told it would be a more significant event.”

“Whatever. I guess it was still better than nothing.”

Germany looked even guiltier at that. Serves him right, Prussia thought with malice that was wonderful and sickening at the same time.

“I'll put everything back tomorrow. You don't have to worry about that,” Germany said. “And please don't think I wanted to keep you out of this or am ashamed of you. The person I had dinner with is particularly difficult.”

“A Bavarian, huh? Prussia cracked a smile that he hoped was convincing. It didn't mean shit if Germany said he wasn't ashamed of him. His actions spoke otherwise, and the paperwork he had just spied gave him the perfect reason to.

“Yes,” Germany said, and if he was trying the same thing, he was failing hard. His smile could barely be called one.

Prussia ran his fingers through his hair. God, he was going to crack if he stayed here for much longer.

“I guess it's good night then,” he said.

“Yes, good night.”

Prussia almost ran through the house down to the basement. He slammed the door shut and leaned his back against it, not willing to go down the stairs and see all of his things in perfect rows in his room.

Fucking Germany. All of his earlier strange behaviour made sense now. Prussia felt like an idiot for not having realised it sooner. It was understandable, he supposed, and he tried to tell himself that he didn't blame Germany. He would done the same if their roles had – fucking hell, no he wouldn't have! He had way more class than that.

Who had raised a strong nation out of that snotty little brat? Who had unified the German states into a functional country? And now that ungrateful bastard couldn't even be honest with him and kept lying to his face.

“I guess what they said about capitalist assholes wasn't so wrong after all,” Prussia muttered as he blinked rapidly so that he wouldn't have to wipe his eyes. The brother he had known before everything had gone to hell would have never treated him like this.


	4. Chapter 4

During the years trapped behind the Wall, Prussia had often sworn to himself that when he saw France again, he would punch his lights out and then give him a kick to the ribs for good measure. That desire had mellowed over time, but he still hadn't been able to reconcile with him.

The shock he saw on France's face as the blond nation opened the door revealed to him that thoughts of his violent revenge weren't unfamiliar to him either.

“What are you –” France asked and took an alarmed step back as Prussia forced his way into his apartment.

“Still no taste whatsoever, I see,” Prussia said as he stopped to observe the interior in the living room. Damn, those couch pillows were tacky. “Not that I expected you to ever develop any.”

France joined him in the room but kept his distance and made sure he was right by the entrance. He smiled at him, but Prussia didn't miss the nervous twitch of his lips.

“I wasn't expecting your visit. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I felt like dropping by to say hello. It's been a while.”

Prussia threw himself on the couch and put up his feet like he owned it. France scowled but didn't object.

“So, aren't you going to serve me anything? Got any of your crappy wine?”

“I see Russia didn't manage to teach you any manners,” France said icily. However, he did walk to the wooden cabinet on the other side of the room and took out a bottle and two glasses.

“Did you think he would?” Prussia asked.

“No. I know you better than that.”

France placed the glasses on the small table before the couch and filled them both. He took a seat in the armchair that was the furthest away from his guest. If Prussia hadn't been feeling so shitty, he might have laughed at how jumpy his old friend was acting.

“Relax. I didn't come here to beat you up, even if you deserve it and more,” he said.

“Then why are you here?” France asked.

Prussia reached out to take his glass. “I told you. I came to say hello to a friend.”

“Forgive me if I find that a little hard to believe.”

“Why? Because friends don't demand each other's dissolution or try to stop them from moving in with their siblings?”

“Friends also don't march into each other's countries and take them over,” France pointed out.

“Right back at you,” Prussia said. He had stopped keeping count how many times he and France had met each other on the battlefield and burned each other's lands. Most of the time, it hadn't affected their friendship too much. Business was business, and they both knew that the actions and opinions of their politicians and people didn't always reflect those of the personified nations.

“I never asked you to be dissolved,” Prussia added.

“I was angry and hurt. What you did in the last war was unforgivable. Excuse me if I wanted revenge and to make sure it would never happen again.”

“Back-stabbing coward.”

“Selfish douche.”

Prussia chuckled into his wine. “I guess it's a good thing I'm not out for revenge. I could so kick your ass if I wanted to.”

“I ask again. Why are you really here?”

Prussia had wondered about that as well on his way to Paris. He knew he should have gone to Spain, but he was always busy and Spain wasn't the right person for this talk. Then there was Hungary with whom he had grown much closer over the years. Misery loved company.

But he had come to France, as he had always done when he had problems. Even now when looking at the man made him sick, he wanted his advice.

“There's no point in being all mopy and bitter, you know,” he said and downed his wine with one gulp. “What happened can't be changed. Gotta make the most out of what I still have and all that shit.”

France frowned. Then, with hesitation in his voice, he asked, “Is that your way of saying you forgive me?”

“Dunno. We'll see. But at least I don't want to kill you or anything,” Prussia said. He knew that he would forgive him, eventually. He would just end up being miserable if he kept hating France. He would gain nothing by it, and he didn't think that having a powerless former nation as his enemy would give France too much trouble. They'd both get more out of it if they tried to make it work.

Besides, while the words France had used weren't an apology, they at least showed that he acknowledged Prussia had the right to be upset. That was a lot more than many other nations would have been willing to give him.

They spent the next couple of hours talking about the past – the good times, mostly. A couple of times they mentioned old fights and disagreements that had happened so long ago that they no longer hurt. They both avoided everything that had happened in the past hundred years or so, knowing that they would have a serious discussion about it later but that it was still too soon.

At some point, France decided that just drinking wouldn't suffice, so he got up to make some quick dinner for them. Prussia remained in the living room, nursing the half a glass of wine in his hands and marvelling how quickly it had started to feel almost alright to just hang out at France's place again.

“By the way, I'm staying for the night,” Prussia announced after they were done eating and were back to drinking France's wine that never got him drunk fast enough.

“The couch is free,” France said. He smiled. “Or would you like to –”

“The couch is just fine.”

“Thought so.”

“It's not like I'm not used to sleeping just about anywhere. I'm still living in the goddamn basement at West's house,” Prussia said. He kept his eyes glued to the glass in his fingers and heard how France shifted on his seat.

“So, how are things between the two of you?”

Prussia wanted to laugh. France had always been able to read him like an open book and know when something was bothering him.

“Great. Just great,” he said.

“I can't imagine it being easy to adjust to a life together after so much has happened,” France said.

“Yeah, this is West we're talking about. He wants me to sort my damn laundry and doesn't like it when I drink milk straight from the carton. But those are small things. We should make it through such things, right?”

France let out a thoughtful hum. “Did you have a fight?”

“I wish!” Prussia said with a chuckle. “Maybe then I could get some answers out of him. He hasn't been really talking to me since I moved in. Sure, he says good morning and reminds me to take out the trash, but that's it.”

“Germany was always difficult like that,” France said.

“Don't I fucking know it. But it's got so much worse. It's like he's avoiding me. Like he doesn't even want to have anything to do with me anymore.”

“Now, maybe you're exaggerating a little,” France said.

“It's just that... I can't help but think that... You know...”

“Hmm?”

“That he doesn't want me around. That he's no longer happy about the reunification.”

“I'm sure he doesn't think that,” France said.

“But he's so distant all the time. It's like he's turning into a stranger.” Prussia stared bitterly at his half-finished drink. “We've both changed during the separation. I guess things can't be like they were before.”

“Listen,” France said and put his glass down on the floor. “Nobody was more worried about you during the Cold War than your brother. His government didn't let him show that, but he loves you and wants the best for you. Believing anything else is... Well, I'll be frank. It's ridiculous.”

“You haven't seen the way he looks at me. Like there's something wrong with me, like I'm fucking defective!” Prussia snapped. “It doesn't really take a lot of genius to figure out what his problem is. I've seen all the paperwork.”

“What paperwork?”

“All that crap that shows how much it's going to cost before the eastern half of the country can measure up to the western part. My brother has been pouring so much money down the drain and supporting me. He works damn late every day.”

“Well, of course. He's your brother.”

Prussia took a gulp of his wine, grimacing. “I can't drink this sweet crap of yours any longer. Don't you have anything else?”

“I'll get a better bottle,” France said.

Prussia watched him walk to the alcohol cabinet. He didn't speak until France had filled his glass and he had given it a try.

“That's more like it.”

France put the wine on the table, not pouring any for himself. “I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I think what you're feeling is quite natural. It's a huge change in a nation's life to suddenly have no country to represent. I'm not surprised you're feeling like you serve no purpose anymore, but that's not –” he said, but Prussia didn't let him finish.

“Germany is one of the strongest countries in Europe. Imagine how much stronger it would be if West could spend all that money and effort on himself. But no, he's got to keep dragging my half along, and who knows how long it'll be before it pays off?”

“I'm sure he knew that before you were reunited. He still went through with it,” France pointed out.

“It's a completely different thing to know something in theory than actually live with it.”

The better alcohol was starting to warm him up, but it couldn't quite banish the chill of knowing that his own brother saw him as a burden. No wonder Germany wanted to hide his presence from his guests, didn't want to spend any more time with him and didn't look him in the eyes when they talked. He was a constant reminder of the struggle Germany had to endure.

“And it's not just money. Or just my brother,” he said. “His people see mine as lazy idiots who have no manners and know nothing about the world. My people leave their homes to pursue a better life in the west, and then they just get laughed at. Or worse, duped with loans and stuff they can't afford because someone decided to take advantage of them.”

“Well, I'm sure –”

“Who do these assholes think they are? What gives them the right to think that everything that's ours sucks and that just we have to adapt, not them? Goddammit, we had really nice kindergartens and social services and shit. West could learn a little from me, but no, he wants to do everything his way!”

Prussia glared at his drink, half tempted to toss the glass against the wall. It would feel great to break something.

“Damn him,” he growled. He hated the hoarse sound of his voice and downed the rest of his drink so that he'd at least get an excuse for it. “He can just go and fuck himself. I'm awesome and free to do whatever I want with my life. See if I care what he thinks about me.”

He handed the glass to France, not looking at him.

“Pour me another one.”

And France did so without a word.

***

Prussia returned from France two days later. Germany had told him to call him to pick him up at the airport, but Prussia had chosen not to do that. He could take the bus and the U-Bahn and come home himself, for fuck's sake. He didn't need yet another reason to look like a burden in Germany's eyes.

He didn't announce his arrival. Something was boiling in the kitchen, and he saw the phone's cord go in through the door. It looked like Germany was trying to cook and talk with someone at the same time.

Germany never did that. In fact, he had told Prussia more than once not to bring the phone to the kitchen. This had to be important.

Feeling curious but not one bit guilty, he tiptoed to the door so that he could hear what Germany was saying.

“ – but I didn't know it would be like this. I thought it would be much easier.” A short pause. “No, Italy, I really can't just talk to him about it. You know Prussia. He's proud. He's never going to admit that something is wrong.”

Prussia knew he didn't want to hear this. If he left now, he wouldn't have to know all the things Germany told about him to Italy. To think that he would rather talk to him than his own brother! But maybe it was no wonder. Italy hadn't been separated from Germany for so many decades.

Germany sighed. “I know, but I don't want to make it worse than it already is. He's probably ashamed of it and wants to keep pretending that everything is fine. And – no, you stay out of this! I had no right to tell you, but you just had to go and snoop around in my study!”

So, Italy knew everything. With a disgusted grimace, Prussia turned away from the entrance and walked to the living room. He turned on the TV and made sure it was so loud that Germany would hear him.

Sure enough, his brother soon emerged from the kitchen and put the phone back in its place in the hall.

“I didn't hear you come back,” he said.

Prussia only acknowledged him with a hum, pretending to be watching the talk show that was on.

“And... how was France?”

Germany hadn't been too enthusiastic about him going to visit France. He had said it was supposed to be France to make the first move since it was he who had to apologize. Prussia had half agreed, but he had still been somewhat surprised by how strongly Germany had protested. He had thought he and France had grown much closer in the course of the years.

“Still a self-important asshole. Hasn't changed one bit,” he said. And that was one reason why he was sure he'd go back.

“What did you talk about?” Germany asked.

Prussia shot him a dark look. “And how is that any of your business?”

“I was only asking.”

“It's none of your concern what I and France did!”

Germany took a seat next to him on the couch. “You're in a terrible mood. Did something happen?”

Wow, this was just rich. Germany actually had the gall to think it was France's fault that he was upset. Or maybe he was just trying to avoid the problem. That phone call he had overheard made it pretty obvious that Germany knew perfectly well what the real issue was.

“Nothing that you should know about,” he spat. Talking to France had made him feel a little better, and he had entertained the hope that maybe he was just imagining things after all. But all he had to do was step into their house and take a look at his brother's emotionally constipated face to know that nope, he wasn't that lucky.

“I'm going to bed,” he announced and got up.

“It's only five.“

“Yeah, well I'm tired.”

Prussia grabbed the key on his way to the basement and slammed the door shut with more force than was necessary. He locked it for good measure. If Germany wanted to be a total asshole, so be it. Prussia didn't need him. He had his new TV and his NES and could spend a month in the basement with just them for company if he wanted. He wouldn't mind at all.

He spent the rest of the evening playing his awesome games. He ignored Germany knocking on the door, asking to be let in and turned up the volume so that his brother wouldn't get the wrong idea and think that he was crying or anything. Even if he was, it was only because he reached the last level in Castlevania and defeated Dracula, so they were tears of joy.

***

Prussia frowned at the sound that was penetrating his sleep. Fucking hell. He tried to just ignore it and bury his head under the covers, but no matter how long he waited, it just wouldn't stop. Slowly, he became more and more aware of what it was. By the time he realised he had no choice but to get up, he knew that he was dealing with the telephone.

He didn't know what time it was, but since Germany wasn't answering the phone, he had to have gone to work already. Rubbing his eyes, Prussia staggered to his feet.

“Shit!” he swore when he hit his head on the door, having forgotten that he had locked it the previous evening.

He had no choice but to go down the stairs and try to remember where he had put the key. It took him nearly ten minutes to find it, but the telephone simply wouldn't stop ringing. When he finally made it out of the basement, he ran to the phone. Maybe something had happened to Germany.

“Prussia! Finally! I've tried to reach you for hours!” 

“What? France?” Prussia asked as he recognised the teary voice on the other end.

“You have to help me! Please!”

“Okay, okay, just calm down. What happened?” Prussia blinked the rest of the sleep from his eyes and tried to sort out his thoughts. Had he and France done something that could lead to trouble? He was pretty sure that they hadn't, but...

“It's Germany! He has gone completely mad!”

“Oh? What did he do? Ban you from world meetings for molesting England again?”

“That's not funny!” France shrieked, and Prussia could imagine him biting into his handkerchief. “Not funny at all! He told me he's going to put an end to some of our most important trade agreements and that he won't even talk to me anymore!”

“What?” 

“And we worked so hard to get those agreements and improve our relations! My boss is so angry at me and Germany won't take my calls! You have to tell him to cut it out!”

“What the hell did you do to piss him off like that?” Prussia asked. He couldn't imagine anything that would make Germany do something so stupid. Did he even have the right to make decisions of that sort without consulting his politicians first?

“That's just it! I don't know! He just called me early this morning and told me that it was the last straw and that he's going to kill me if I don't keep my hands off you.”

“I have no idea what's going on,” Prussia said.

“Me neither! We didn't even do anything, or did we? My memories are a bit hazy.”

“I'm pretty sure we didn't, but even if we did, how the hell is it any of his business?”

“Maybe Germany works too hard. Maybe we should have expected something like this after what he did to Russia,” France said.

“Yeah, he –” Prussia paused. “Russia? What did West do to Russia?”

“How can you not know? He kicked him out right in the middle of their dinner at your house.”

“He did what? And when was Russia even here?”

“Last week, of course.” 

Prussia had to lean against the wall for support. He had had no idea. None at all. So that was the mysterious business partner. It was because of Russia that Germany had hidden all of his things. The only thing that didn't didn't fit into the puzzle was that there was no reason whatsoever for Germany to do that.

“Prussia? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, yeah. Where did you hear all this anyway?”

“I heard it from Turkey who heard it from Poland who heard it from Lithuania. I don't know how much of it can be believed after so many people, but apparently Russia was pretty upset.”

“Do you know why he kicked him out? I mean, other than that he's an ugly asshole.”

“I don't have the slightest idea. But enough about Russia! You have to help me sort this out. Please! My boss is threatening me with a chastity device if this mess isn't solved right now! Imagine! All my love sealed away! You've got to help me! Tell him nothing happened!”

“I will,” Prussia growled. And he would tell him something else as well. It was high time to have a nice chat with his little brother.

***

Prussia heard the door open and close, but he didn't move from his spot on the couch. He'd wait until Germany came to say hello to him (he always did, probably to quench his guilt about how little he spoke to him otherwise) and then he'd corner him. He had spent the whole day coming up with a battle plan and good arguments, so he was sure he'd hand Germany his ass in no time.

“How was work?” he asked when Germany entered the living room.

“The same as always.”

Yeah, Germany's default answer so that he wouldn't have to give him any details. Asshole.

“France called this morning,” Prussia said casually

Germany's shoulders stiffened. “I told him not to.”

“Why?” Prussia asked, turning to face him. “And what was all that crap that France was telling me? Have you gone mad? You're committing a diplomatic suicide, you ass!”

“I thought it was necessary. I knew it was a terrible idea that you'd go to visit someone like France. I saw how upset you were yesterday, and I had to do something,” Germany said.

“Again, why? Let's get one thing straight here. Nothing happened between France and me, absolutely nothing. And even if we had fucked ourselves silly right in front of the Louvre, how the hell is it any of your business?”

Germany was looking at him with startled confusion in his eyes. “But I thought... I heard you cry last night.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn't because of France,” Prussia said sulkily and crossed his arms on his chest.

“Then why? Who was it? Did someone do something to you?”

Prussia stared at his brother's worried face and found himself hating the sight of it.

“Fucking hell, West. Do you think I'm made of glass? Believe it or not, but I can take care of myself. I don't need you to babysit me and lie to me!”

“But I –”

“Shut up! You've been pulling the strings behind my back all this time! I know that Russia was here! France told me!”

Germany's eyes widened in alarm, but then a resigned expression took over his features. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I didn't want you to find out about that.”

“Why?” Prussia snarled. And it had better be a damn good reason. So good that even he with his awesome imagination couldn't come up with it because right now he didn't think there could ever be an explanation good enough.

“I thought you wouldn't want to see him. After everything he has done to you, I didn't want you to know that he had been to our house,” Germany said.

That wasn't making any sense.

“Okay, West. Here's the deal. My patience is running very low right now, so either you tell me exactly what you mean or I'm going to give you a beating that I apparently forgot about when you were a kid.”

Germany drew a deep breath. “I guess we should have talked about this right away. I just wanted to give you a little space and not force you.” He paused here, as if hoping that Prussia would take the lead, but since Prussia had no clue what was going on, he simply glared expectantly at his brother.

“I mean,” Germany continued faintly. “How he raped you.”

At first, Prussia could do nothing but stare at his brother's face and search it for signs that he was joking, that he had somehow developed a sense of humour that was twisted even by Prussia's standards. But Germany was serious – so serious that Prussia couldn't remember him looking like that since the last days of the war.

“What?” he barked. What the hell was this insanity? Out of all the possible things Germany could have said, Prussia hadn't been expecting that one.

“I've known since 1963. I'm so sorry I couldn't do anything. I can't even imagine –”

“Wait, wait. What the hell are you talking about? Russia never raped me!”

Germany frowned in confusion. “Of course he did. I read the reports and saw the pictures.”

“Pictures? You have pictures of Russia raping me?”

“Well, no, but they show you've been abused. And America told me –”

“What does America have to do with this?” Prussia ran his fingers through his hair, trying to make some sense of the situation, but he couldn't understand anything. How could Germany think that?

“He told me what was going on, and I had him provide me with more information. I know it was wrong, but I had to know what was going on, even if I could do nothing to stop it,” Germany said.

“Let me get this straight. You had America spy on me for decades because you thought Russia was raping me and –”

“I only did it because I was –”

“And then when the Wall came down, you didn't even try to talk to me! You've been lying to me and doing things behind my back! You accused France of God knows what and told everything to Italy! Not cool!”

“I didn't mean to tell him. He found out on his own.”

“No, he didn't! I heard you on the phone! He found something, and then you filled his mind with that paranoid shit! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I was only –” Germany started, but Prussia cut him off with a punch that sent him sprawling off the couch. 

Yeah, that felt good.

“Don't give me any crap about trying to protect me! I can't believe my own brother would do this!” Prussia snarled. He got up and pointed his hands at himself. “Guess what, West? I've never been raped, but even if I had been, you've been acting like the biggest asshole in the world. I'm so done with this.”

With that, he marched to the hall, grabbed his coat and went outside, slamming the door shut after him.

The chilly November air felt good in his lungs but did little to extinguish his anger. He couldn't believe this. He just couldn't. Of all the stupid things that could have happened...

He arrived at a bus stop, just in time to catch the bus to the centre. There were no seats left, so he had to stand by the window near the middle. He rubbed his knuckles and flexed his fingers. Damn, he was rusty. He couldn't even punch people right anymore.

“Hey, are you okay?”

A young woman was looking at him worriedly. Under any other circumstances, Prussia might have seen it as a chance to pick her up, but now he was too angry to even think about that.

“I'm perfect!” he snapped.

“But you're crying,” the woman said.

“I'm not!” Irritated, Prussia pressed the button to make the bus stop even though it was at least some ten kilometres too early. “And it's none of your business!” he called over his shoulder as he jumped off the bus, ending up all alone at a darkening street corner.

He wouldn't stay here, he decided. He'd find another bus stop and catch a ride to the train station. Maybe he'd go back to France and bunk with him. Denmark might take him in, too. Or Hungary if she didn't already have Austria staying over.

It took him over an hour before he reached the train station. The mass of people, their chatter and the loud announcements were making him feel disoriented, so he tried to find a quiet spot where he could read the schedule and decide where he was going.

He kept his eyes glued to the poster on the wall and tried to see if there were any trains that would take him towards France any time soon. However, he couldn't concentrate, so he constantly found himself reading the wrong line or forgetting what he was supposed to do.

Just what had Germany been thinking? How could he believe something like that and then act so stupidly? Prussia supposed he perhaps should have been grateful for how much his brother seemed to care, but it only made him sick. The bastard had taken his life into his hands because he thought he knew what was the best for him. It was like putting an eagle into a cage so that nobody would shoot it.

He finally got a hold of himself and saw that the best possible train for him would take him to Poland. He paused to think. Should he go there? He'd been over for drinks a few times, but there was too much bad history and not enough good memories to make up for it between them. Poland probably wouldn't be happy to see him.

Well, he'd give it a try anyway. He bought a ticket and hurried to the right platform just in time to see the train arrive. He only had a minute or so to get on it, but he made no move and simply watched the other passengers hurry past him.

Did he really want to go? It was like his feet had turned into lead, and the thought of getting on the train and travelling to get comfort from someone who might just laugh and slam the door shut to his face didn't sound like such an awesome idea all of a sudden.

He forced himself to take the first step, but just then he heard his name being called out.

“Prussia! Wait!”

Prussia turned around and saw Germany running running towards him. Despite the anger that instantly flared up at the sight of his brother, Prussia remained where he was. The doors closed, and the train started moving just as Germany reached him. Before Prussia had the chance to say anything, Germany had thrown his arms around him and pulled him close.

“Come back home,” he said against his neck.

“If I do, will you start buying beer again?”

“Yes.”

“Then I'll consider it,” Prussia said and wriggled free from the embrace.

Germany's hair was falling to his eyes, making him look dishevelled. The tie around his neck had come loose, and he was still panting from having run too much. A nice bruise was forming at the corner of his mouth. Well, too bad. He deserved it.

“Where's your coat?” Prussia asked.

Germany looked down at himself like he was only now realising that he was wearing nothing but a suit in a November evening. “I didn't even think to take it. I had to find you.”

“How did you find me anyway? There are countless other places where I could be.”

“At first I had no idea where to look, but then I realised you were upset that you're surely want to leave.”

“Yeah, you made me miss my train,” Prussia grumbled. “I really wanted to say hello to Poland.”

“We should go. I'm pretty sure I left the car somewhere where you shouldn't park,” Germany said.

“That's a first for you.”

“I was in a hurry.”

They made it to Germany's car before he was given a ticket or the car was dragged away. Prussia was almost disappointed by that because he didn't think there would ever again be a chance to see his brother explain to the authorities why he had broken a traffic law, but he was tired from the earlier yelling and walking. All he wanted was to get back home as quickly as possible.

“I'm sorry,” Germany said after they had been driving in uncomfortable silence for a while.

“Yeah, you should be.”

“I just... I don't understand. Did nothing really happen?”

“I already told you nothing happened. This isn't me lying to save a face or anything. Russia never ever touched me, and neither did anyone else,” Prussia said. “Against my will, anyway.”

Germany let out a choking sigh, and for a moment Prussia was sure he was going to press his head against the wheel and forget where he was and what he was doing. He didn't, but Prussia still got the feeling it would have been better if he was driving. Germany looked like a shaking mess.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I'm fine.”

“You're still going to have to explain to me just what has been doing on. Because I still don't get half of it,” Prussia said.

“I will. Once we're home, I'll tell you everything.”

More silence.

“Sorry about the bruise,” Prussia said after a while.

“I've had worse,” Germany said and lifted a hand to examine the corner of his mouth. “And I think I deserved this one.”

“Yeah.”

They arrived at the house. Prussia started making coffee because he wanted to have something to do with his hands and because Germany looked like he needed something hot to drink. Maybe he also needed a moment of peace to put his thoughts together.

Prussia placed a steaming mug before Germany and took a seat opposite him at the table.

“Well?” he asked. 

Germany wrapped his hands around the mug, but he made no effort to drink. “I'm not sure how to start. I still can't believe that I was so wrong.”

“Hah, you aren't perfect, West. Even if you sure like to act like it.”

“But the evidence... It was so overwhelming.”

“What evidence?” Prussia asked in exasperation. “I told you, nothing happened. There can't be any damn evidence!”

“But everything America told me made me think that... And Russia always sounded so malicious when he talked about you. And then there were the photos.”

“Okay, what are these photos you kept talking about?”

Germany got on his feet. “Wait here.”

Germany soon returned and handed him an old, brown envelope. Prussia pulled out a handful of photos and was more than a little disturbed to see himself in them. They were old pictures, and he immediately realised they were from a time that hadn't been very awesome.

“Where did you get these?” he asked.

“America gave them to me. It was some time late in the sixties, I think. When I saw you like that, it just strengthened my suspicions,” Germany said, pointing at a photo in which Prussia was standing at a street corner with his face covered in bruises.

Prussia tossed the photos on the table. “Yeah, well you and Mr. Hero got it all wrong. I wasn't raped, and this was not done by Russia.”

“It wasn't him?” Germany asked in surprise. “Then who?”

“Bulgaria,” Prussia grumbled.

“Bulgaria? But why would he ever do that?”

“These photos are from 1968 when Russia took some of us from the Warsaw Pact and we went to teach the Czechoslovakian twins a lesson. Let's just say that Bulgaria likes giving crap to his own allies and leave it at that because it's fucking embarrassing,” Prussia explained.

“But... That's all? You got beaten up by Bulgaria?”

“No need to rub it in, okay? I was drunk!” Prussia sighed and leaned back on his chair. “And whatever other stupid evidence you have is all wrong, too. I'm not in the mood for going through every piece and telling you what really happened, so will you just agree to believe that you messed up big time?”

“Yes.”

“Man, I still can't wrap my mind around all this. How can you think Russia would ever rape anyone? Sure, he's big and scary, but he's a total child! He never hurts people because he likes it, only because he thinks he's doing the right thing.”

That was actually one reason Prussia hated Russia so much. That patronizing and irritatingly well-meaning attitude about all the problems he had caused in East Germany had made the years under his watch almost unbearable. Prussia wasn't weak; he could take a lot abuse. What he couldn't stand were a pat on the head and a smile that promised everything would be fine if he just gave up and obeyed.

“In fact, I'm pretty sure he'd start crying if you walked up to him and accused him of rape,” he added.

Germany covered his face into his hands. “I should apologize to him. And to France.”

“And to me!” Prussia snapped. “You've been a total dick to me! Did you think acting like that would somehow help me if I had actually been abused? I bet it would have only made it worse! I mean, do you even realise what you were doing?”

Germany looked absolutely miserable, but Prussia didn't want to give him the chance to start sputtering apologies. First he wanted to get everything out of his chest.

“Let's look at that stupid idea of lying to me and hiding all my things. Sure, you thought you were protecting me, but you were actually just taking away my chance to make any decisions myself. That totally sucks, but how do you think an actual rape victim would feel about someone taking all control away like that?”

“But the books I read –”

“God, West. Get your nose out of the books and think a little. Would it have been that hard to say, 'Hey, Prussia. Russia is coming over. Do you want to stay or go away?' There, not so goddamn difficult, is it?”

Finally done, Prussia let out an irritated growl and took a gulp of his coffee, not caring that it was still a little too hot to be drunk that fast.

“I'm sorry,” Germany mumbled and kept staring at the table. “I thought you had been hurt. It was killing me that there was nothing I could do to help. Especially when the Wall was up, I was so sure you were trapped on the other side and that... that Russia was...” His voice broke, and, unable to continue, he buried his face into his hands.

Prussia found himself at a loss of words as he watched his brother break down. He hadn't been expecting that. Germany was strong, probably stronger than he had ever been, and definitely more stable. He wasn't supposed to cry like this. And most importantly, Prussia didn't want him to cry because of something he had said.

“Hey,” he said awkwardly. “Stop that. That's not cool.”

“I can't,” Germany said as the sobs shook his body. “For so many years...”

It dawned to Prussia that he hadn't stopped to think about Germany's point of view even once during his rage. Germany had spent decades thinking that his brother was being hurt in the worst possible way, feeling unable to help in any way. Prussia tried to imagine how he would react if their roles had been reversed, and he was suddenly sure he was going to be sick.

The mere thought of someone doing that to Germany, to his little brother, was so frightening that he didn't know how he would ever be able to deal with it if it happened once. To think that it would go on for years was maddening. If he had been in Germany's shoes, he would have done so much more and so many stupider and more irrational things.

And what he had completely forgotten in his anger was that Germany had done all that only because he had been worried about him. Sure, his help had been clumsy and misguided, but he had tried his best and been convinced he was doing the right thing. As he now watched his brother cry, Prussia got the sinking feeling that out of the two of them, maybe he was the bigger asshole after all.

He got up and walked around the table to where Germany was sitting. Prussia had loved hugging him when he had been little, but after Germany had grown taller than him, it had become somewhat embarrassing. But maybe he could make an exception this time.

“I told you not to cry,” he said and wrapped his arms around Germany's chest, leaning close.

“I'm so sorry about everything.”

“Nah, don't be. Before you know it, we'll be laughing at this whole thing.”

“I don't think it's very funny.”

No, Prussia supposed it wasn't. “I'm sorry, too, you know. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that or punched you or run away with no explanations. That didn't solve anything.”

“But it wasn't your –”

“Shut up, West. I'm trying to deliver an awesome apology here.” Prussia leaned his chin against Germany's shoulder and tried to decide what to say next. He was very, very rusty at apologizing, and he had never been good at it to begin with. He usually preferred to avoid it by brushing the whole issue aside with some laughs and jokes, but he knew that wouldn't suffice this time.

“I'm sorry about all that I said. Yeah, what you did wasn't very cool, but I didn't stop to think about how you were feeling. It must have sucked to believe that Russia was doing all that to me. I would have gone insane if I had thought someone was doing that to you,” he said.

“There were times when I was sure I couldn't take it anymore, but then I always thought that it was nothing compared to what you were going through,” Germany said, his voice hoarse and weak. “And then I always felt so guilty. I always –”

“Hey, that wasn't your fault,” Prussia cut him off and held him a little tighter, the way he had when Germany had been little. “I should have noticed something was bothering you.” Sure, he had heard something different in Germany's voice whenever he had called him in the past, but he hadn't thought much of it. In his darkest times, he had even resented him for it. He hadn't spared a single thought to the possibility that Germany's glorious capitalist life wasn't necessarily that perfect after all.

“I've been a pretty lame-ass big brother,” he continued. If he had tried to talk to Germany years ago instead of laughing off all of the things that were bothering him, none of this would have happened. His stupid pride was just as much to blame as Germany's inability to talk about his feelings.

“But you're used to that, right? You wouldn't have gone through all that trouble if you didn't think there was at least a tiny bit of something salvageable in me,” Prussia went on.

“You could have been the worst brother in the world, and I would have still given anything to have you back safe,” Germany said.

Prussia laughed and reached out to ruffle Germany's already messy hair. “I should actually thank you for doing all that for me, I guess. You're so going to laugh at me when I say this, but for a while there I kind of thought that you had grown sick of me and would rather kick me out.”

“What?” Germany blurted out and turned around to face him, and Prussia let go of him.

“Stupid, huh? Maybe I'm not the best brother in the world, but I'm still damn awesome. Who would ever want to get rid of me?”

“Is that why you were so upset? Dammit, I just made everything worse,” Germany said with a groan. “Believe me, I could never want that!”

“I know. I said it was stupid.” Prussia had to swallow the lump in his throat at the realisation that all of his worries had been for nothing. He felt such relief at the knowledge that all this had been because Germany loved him so much, not because he didn't care about him anymore.

It had all been such a stupid, tragic misunderstanding. He couldn't decide if he wanted to laugh or cry or which would have made him feel better.

“You know, West, we both kind of suck. If we were a little bit more normal, none of this would have ever happened,” he said.

“I believe so,” Germany agreed. “As soon as Italy found out, he told me I should talk to you about it.”

“That's pretty much what France told me.”

Germany sighed. “It felt so hopeless. No matter how many books I read, I didn't feel like I knew how to approach you about it. I was afraid I'd just make everything worse.”

“Yeah, no book can summarise me. But don't think about that anymore. It's over, and we can throw those books in the trash.”

“Yes, we can.” Germany smiled, and he looked so relieved and happy that Prussia was tempted to hug him again. “I can't believe that you're really alright. It's such a relief.”

“Yeah,” Prussia said. “So anyway, I hope you're still willing to have a brother who isn't quite perfect and who keeps saying really stupid shit when he gets angry.”

“I don't think I'm in the position to be picky right now.”

“Haha, I guess we're stuck with each other whether we like it or not. A world power tried to keep us apart, and see how well that went,” Prussia said. He paused to think. “So, did you really kick Russia out of the house?” he asked.

“Yes. I'm so ashamed of myself now. I should –”

“That was really awesome! I wish I had been there! His face must have been priceless!” Prussia cackled as he imagined the scene before his eyes. Served that bastard right to be shown his place once in a while. “We should totally invite him back so that we can kick him out again.”

“I don't think that's a very good idea.”

“Aww, come on! Don't hog all the fun!”

“It's not a laughing matter!”

“Yeah, yeah. Don't nag. Man, I still can't believe that you kicked Russia's ass like that.”

Germany smiled weakly. “I thought he had hurt my brother.”

“You're such a wuss,” Prussia said, but he he had no choice but to respond to Germany's smile with a grin that threatened to split his face. Man, who would have thought that his kid brother would try to protect him one day? That was a little embarrassing, so he figured he'd have to try to do a better job at being a brother to make up for it.


	5. Chapter 5

Germany leaned back on his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose, his head aching from too much reading so late at night. Prussia had told him not to work so much and just go to bed, but Germany knew it wouldn't help him at all. He just couldn't get any sleep when he knew that there was unfinished work on his desk.

In practice, that meant he got very little sleep. He sometimes had the feeling that when he finished one stack of paperwork, two more had mysteriously appeared. There was so much to do and so many laws, regulations and plans for the future to organize.

But he didn't complain, not once. All he had to do to find the energy was to think of his brother and how they were finally able to live together again. He had missed him so much, and he was sure the night when the Wall had fallen would always be the happiest memory in his life.

A good contender was the evening when Prussia had told him that Russia hadn't done anything to him. A week had passed, and Germany was still overcome with relief whenever he caught sight of his brother reading comics or heard him laugh at something. It was like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders when he had realised that his brother was fine.

In hindsight, the whole ordeal had been so far-fetched that it was almost ridiculous. They could have avoided so much trouble if they had simply talked to each other instead of them both jumping to conclusions. Germany couldn't help but feel guilty, even after Prussia had done his best to convince him that it hadn't been his fault alone. Germany supposed that he had simply grown too used to shouldering all the blame about everything over the years.

It had also been a valuable learning experience for the both of them. They couldn't keep living as brothers if they weren't ready to confront each other about what was bothering them. Germany knew that they'd both have trouble with that, but he was willing to give it a try. Overcoming obstacles built character, and he had already made inquiries about several self-help books at the book store – much to Prussia's irritation because he didn't believe books could teach one something like that.

Germany read through his report for the last time and then put it neatly away into a folder on his shelf. A quick glance at the clock told him that it was nearing one at night. High time for him to go to bed and get some rest before the meeting the following morning.

As he stepped out of his study, he noticed that there was still light in the kitchen. Prussia had probably forgotten to turn it off again.

Tired from all the work, Germany merely flipped the light switch with the intention of going back upstairs at once, but he stopped when there was an irritated shout in the now dark kitchen.

“I'm not a cat, West. I can't make coffee in the dark!”

Germany turned the light back on and stepped into the kitchen. Prussia was in the middle of pouring water into the coffee pot but had interrupted his work so that could glare accusingly at him.

“Why are you still up?” Germany asked.

“I can't go to bed before I've beaten Double Dragon. Might take a while, so I need coffee. Besides, you're still up, too.”

“I had work to do.”

“Yeah, like that's a better reason.”

“I thought you wanted to come to the meeting as well,” Germany pointed out.

“I do. I can make it with very little sleep. You're the one who needs some shut-eye here. Have you taken a look in the mirror lately? It's a surprise Italy still wants to hang out with someone who looks like that,” Prussia said as he finished measuring coffee powder into the machine and turned it on.

“There has been quite a lot of work lately...”

“I'll help you. I can take Italy off your hands, and you can concentrate on tax rates and the public school system and whatever.”

“I'm not sure –”

“Joking, West. Sheesh. Just send the extra work my way, okay? I know you're keeping the most to yourself,” Prussia said, scowling at him in irritation.

“Sorry. It's not that I don't trust you. I just feel better when everything is directly under my control.”

“Yeah, I've noticed what a control freak you are. You always were. But the load is getting too much for you, so it's my job as your awesome big brother to make sure you don't kill yourself. If you don't give me more work voluntarily, I'm locking you in your room and taking over the country. That's my forte, so be careful.”

Germany couldn't help but smile. “I'll keep that in mind,” he said. “In fact, I'll need you to run a few meetings in my place next week.”

“Oh? Why is that?” Prussia asked with lifted brows.

“I'm going to visit Russia.”

“God, don't tell me you're going to apologize to him or anything stupid like that. He's not worth it.”

“You know I have to. I treated him unfairly. I should have paid him a visit already.”

“I have no idea why you bother. The less we have to deal with Russia, the better,” Prussia grumbled.

“You shouldn't hold a grudge. Everyone makes mistakes, and I'm sure Russia will become more agreeable when the situation in his country develops further,” Germany said. He couldn't forget what Russia had said to him when he had come to dinner. He had looked so uncertain of himself and yet hopeful of the future. Germany wanted to punch himself when he thought back to how he had treated his guest.

“I doubt it. Don't blame me if he makes you eat his disgusting _okroshka_ while you're there.”

“I won't. But now I'm going to bed. The meeting is going to kill me otherwise,” Germany said.

“Yeah, you do that.”

“You should go to sleep as well.”

“I told you I've got important stuff to do first. Even if I don't sleep at all, I bet I'm still going to look better than you in the morning!”

Germany chuckled to himself as he climbed upstairs and listened to Prussia humming in the kitchen as he waited for the coffee to brew. 

He didn't doubt that they would be running into countless other problems in the future. They'd be getting on each other's nerves and arguing about the most unnecessary things. They'd do something stupid to hurt each other. But that didn't bother him one bit right now.

***

Russia had been in a melancholy mood as of late. His house, which had always been a safe haven for him, now filled him with foreboding and longing. Everyone was still there, and he was hoping that they'd stay with him if he gave them more freedom and wasn't so... strict about everyone doing things his way all the time.

However, deep down he knew that they were all preparing to leave. Lithuania had told him his room was so empty because he was cleaning, but Russia had seen the packed luggage that he had hidden under his bed.

In the past, he might have lashed out and shown Lithuania where his place was and that rebellious lackeys couldn't be truly happy, but he didn't think it would help anymore. Everyone would soon follow Prussia's example.

Thinking of Prussia made Russia frown and turns his eyes from his Dostoevsky to the flames in the fireplace. His awful experience at Germany's house was still on his mind after nearly two weeks. He had tried not to let it bother him, but Germany's words and especially the loathing in his eyes made Russia's heart heavy.

What had he done to deserve such treatment? He thought he had been nice and polite. Most of all, he had thought Germany would understand him. That maybe he could be the first of Russia's new friends in the changing world.

Why didn't the others hate Germany, only him? Germany had done horrible things as well. And Russia had tried so hard to create the perfect world for everyone to live in. It hadn't worked out like he had wanted, but he had still tried. It wasn't fair that the others looked at him as if he were a monster.

He was brought back from his depressing thoughts when there was a knock on the door. Russia turned to look and saw Lithuania standing there.

“Mr. Russia, there's a visitor for you,” the other nation said.

“Really?” Russia asked in surprise. “That's nice. Let them in. Oh, and bring us something to drink.”

He closed his book and set it aside. Reading his authors' old classics always made him feel a little better when he was down. The books were loved and appreciated all over the world, and they gave him hope that maybe one day he could be as well.

Russia wondered who his guest might be. He wasn't expecting anyone. Maybe it was Bulgaria or Romania. Or China. He would love it if China came to visit.

The door was opened again, but Russia's expectant smile wavered a little when he saw just who it was.

“Ah, Germany,” he said. “I wasn't expecting you to come. Was there something you wanted to add to what you said to me last time?”

Germany looked uncomfortable, but not in the way that Russia was used to seeing in others. He wasn't shaking in fear or trying to make himself as little as possible so that Russia wouldn't notice him. If anything, he looked embarrassed, and that was enough to make Russia so curious that he almost forgot about what had happened the previous time.

“I came to apologize,” Germany said.

“I see. So, your boss convinced you it wasn't a very good idea to make me angry.”

“No, that's not –” Germany started, but Russia cut him off. He barely heard what Germany was saying anyway; it was of no real interest to him.

“That's wise, but it must be hard for a nation like you to apologize to one like me. After all, you're one of the winners now. How the times change,” he said, offering Germany one of his sweetest smiles. “Go on. Just apologize and then you can leave.”

Like everyone soon would.

“I'm not here because of my boss. I came because I am truly sorry about what I said last time. There was a horrible misunderstanding,” Germany said.

“Yes, I made the mistake of thinking I'd be welcome at your house. But that's alright. Everyone makes mistakes, even me.”

Russia was hoping that Germany would just get it over with and go. It was obvious that Germany only wanted to repair the damage he had done and ensure good diplomatic relations with him. Compared to all the other losses looming in the horizon, Russia could almost say that he didn't care.

“I don't really know how to say this,” Germany started. He was clasping his hands before him in a nervous fashion that was very unlike him. Russia was almost tempted to think that the slight blush on his cheeks was actually because of his discomfort and not because he had just come from the outside into a room with a fireplace.

“I was given some... false information a few decades ago, and I jumped into some horrible and very unfair conclusions. I thought you were hurting my brother,” Germany said, stuttering somewhat with his words.

“Did Prussia complain about me?” Russia asked. He shouldn't have been surprised. Prussia had never liked him, no matter how nice he had tried to be to him.

“No, this was different. It was America. He told me that... I know this is going to sound really terrible, and I apologize for that, but... I thought you were being sexually abusive towards my brother.”

Russia was silent for a long time. He knew Germany was standing right before him like a soldier, his back straight, and refusing to hide by averting his gaze. However, Russia didn't really see any of that, nor did he care to.

“Please leave,” he said, and his voice sounded just as icy as he felt inside.

“Russia, I'm sorry. It was a horrible mistake, and I should have never believed that.”

“I have heard a lot of insults in my lifetime, but this is too much. I don't want to hear another word from you.”

Russia picked up his book again, clutching it in his hands that he willed not to shake. Was that what everyone thought of him? Had America told the same thing to everyone? Were the repulsed and frightened looks he had got over the years because everyone thought he was such a monster? Yes, he had been harsh sometimes, but it was only because he cared so much about everyone under his power and wanted them to adapt and be happy. He would never hurt them like that.

Just the thought of that was enough to make him ill. If everyone believed he was capable of that, nobody would ever want to be his friend again. At best, they'd tolerate him at world meetings and look at him in disgust, but they'd never talk to him if they didn't have to. Nobody would ever invite him over or accept his invitations. He'd be all alone in his empty house while everyone else had someone.

Russia clutched at his chest, the pain so severe that he was tempted to just take his heart out for a while so that he wouldn't have to feel it.

“Russia?”

He looked up when he heard Germany call out his name.

“What are you still doing here?” he asked, but his voice didn't have the vicious edge that he wanted to hear. Instead, he sounded pitiful and lonely, like a child.

Germany hesitated, but then he came to sit in the armchair opposite Russia's. Russia gritted his teeth, ready to snarl at him to go and never come back, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was so hurt that he yearned for someone's company, even if it was the person who had made him feel like that in the first place.

“I can't leave before I've made you understand how sorry I am. What I thought and how I treated you as a result was unfair and cruel. I should have known you would never do that,” Germany said.

“What does it matter?” Russia asked. “Whether everyone hates me for that or for some other reason, the result is still the same.”

“I don't hate you.”

“Your brother does. I tried to be nice to him, but he never saw anything my way. And if he hates me, you will hate me as well.”

Germany shook his head. “No. I form my own opinions. And I don't hate you. If anything, I think the two of us have very much in common. Everyone makes mistakes. There isn't a single nation in this world who hasn't done something horrible. Some of us just have so much more guilt to carry than others, but it doesn't mean we're doomed forever.”

“That's easy for you to say. Everyone loves you now,” Russia said. The words tasted bitter, but it was the truth. He and Germany weren't at all the same.

“I can never make up for some of the things I did. Neither can you. We just have to learn to live with it and try to do our best so that history won't repeat itself. It's not easy, and the next couple of years will no doubt be a hard time for you. But it'll get better, and you'll be strong again.”

Russia wanted to believe that, but he wasn't sure if he had the courage. His world was currently falling apart around him, and he couldn't decide if he was willing to risk grasping at any hope or if it was better to play it safe and never be disappointed again.

He was about to answer, but that was when there was once more a knock on the door. It was Lithuania again, bringing the drinks Russia had asked him to.

“I'm not sure we're going to need those after all. You can take them back.”

“Actually, I would very much like to stay a while if it's no trouble,” Germany said.

Russia shot him a curious and wary look. “Why would you?”

“To catch up a little, and I was hoping you would accept my invitation to have dinner at my house again. Hopefully it will go better this time.”

Russia didn't say anything, but he motioned for Lithuania to step in with the drinks. Maybe he would regret it later, but hope was starting to look like a very tempting option.


End file.
